"I declare you throw me into an ague. Hill,” she said graciously. " "That is your fault, none of mine. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. She would ignore him. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write.
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