Charlie laughed and sat down upon a corner of the library table."Poor old soul! What a pity she doesn't die before he is quite worn out.A little too much ether some of these times would send her off quite comfortably, you know.""Don't speak in that way.Uncle says imaginary troubles are often as hard to bear as real ones," said Rose, turning around displeased.
Till now she had not fairly looked at him, for recollections of the morning made her a little shy.His attitude and appearance surprised her as much as his words, and the quick change in her face seemed to remind him of his manners.Getting up, he hastily took off his hat and stood looking at her with a curiously fixed yet absent look as he said in the same rapid, abrupt way, as if, when once started, he found it hard to stop, "I beg pardon­only joking­very bad taste I know, and won't do it again.
The heat of the room makes me a little dizzy, and I think I got a chill coming out.It is cold­I am frozen, I daresay­though I drove like the devil.""Not that bad horse of yours, I hope? I know it is dangerous, so late and alone," said Rose, shrinking behind the big chair as Charlie approached the fire, carefully avoiding a footstool in his way.
"Danger is exciting­that's why I like it.No man ever called me a coward­let him try it once.I never give in­and that horse shall not conquer me.I'll break his neck, if he breaks my spirit doing it.No­I don't mean that­never mind­it's all right," and Charlie laughed in a way that troubled her, because there was no mirth in it.
"Have you had a pleasant day?" asked Rose, looking at him intently as he stood pondering over the cigar and match which he held, as if doubtful which to strike and which to smoke.
"Day? Oh, yes, capital.About two thousand calls, and a nice little supper at the Club.Randal can't sing any more than a crow, but I left him with a glass of champagne upside down, trying to give them my old favorite: "'Tis better to laugh than be sighing,"and Charlie burst forth in that bacchanalian melody at the top of his voice, waving an allumette holder over his head to represent Randal's inverted wineglass.
"Hush! You'll wake Aunty," cried Rose in a tone so commanding that he broke off in the middle of a roulade to stare at her with a blank look as he said apologetically, "I was merely showing how it should be done.
Don't be angry, dearest­look at me as you did this morning, and I'll swear never to sing another note if you say so.I'm only a little gay­we drank your health handsomely, and they all congratulated me.Told 'em it wasn't out yet.Stop, though­I didn't mean to mention that.No matter­I'm always in a scrape, but you always forgive me in the sweetest way.Do it now, and don't be angry, little darling." And, dropping the vase, he went toward her with a sudden excitement that made her shrink behind the chair.
She was not angry, but shocked and frightened, for she knew now what the matter was and grew so pale, he saw it and asked pardon before she could utter a rebuke.
"We'll talk of that tomorrow.It is very late.Go home now, please, before Uncle comes," she said, trying to speak naturally yet betraying her distress by the tremor of her voice and the sad anxiety in her eyes.
