'
The girl's voice broke, and she buried her face in her arms, which rested
on the table.
Wentworth sprang to his feet and came round to where she sat.
'Jennie,' he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. The girl, without
looking up, shook off the hand that touched her.
'Go back to your place,' she cried, in a smothered voice. 'Leave me
alone.'
'Jennie,' persisted Wentworth.
The young woman rose from her chair and faced him, stepping back a pace.
'Don't you hear what I say? Go back and sit down. I came here to talk
business, not to make a fool of myself. It's all your fault, and I hate
you for it--you and your silly questions.'
But the young man stood where he was, in spite of the dangerous sparkle
that shone in his visitor's wet eyes. A frown gathered on his brow.
'Jennie,' he said slowly, 'are you playing with me again?'
The swift anger that blazed up in her face, reddening her cheeks, dried
the tears.
'How _dare_ you say such a thing to me!' she cried hotly. 'Do you flatter
yourself that, because I came here to talk business, I have also some
personal interest in you? Surely even _your_ self-conceit doesn't run so
far as that!'
Wentworth stood silent, and Miss Brewster picked up her parasol,
scattering, in her haste, the other articles on the floor. If she
expected Wentworth to put them on the table again, she was disappointed,
for, although his eyes were upon her, his thoughts were far away upon the
Atlantic Ocean.
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