At intervals Pamela got up to change the plates and the dishes,
quieting with a peremptory gesture the two males, who would spring
to their feet. 'Haven't I done parlour-work for six months?--no
amateurs, please!' And again, even while he talked on, Arthur's eyes
would stray after the young full figure, the white neck and throat,
the head with the soft hair folded close around it in wavy bands
that followed all its lines--as it might have been the head of one
of those terra-cottas that her father had stolen from the Greek
tombs in his youth.
But unfortunately, after dinner, in a corner of the dark
drawing-room, he must needs try and play the schoolmaster a little,
for her good of course; and then all went to pieces.
'I hear you ran away!'
The voice that threw out this sudden challenge was half ironical,
half affectionate; the grey eyes under their strong black brows
looked at her with amusement.
Pamela flushed at once.
'Aubrey told you, I suppose? What was the good of staying? I
couldn't do anything right.
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