She finished the olive and looked up. His voice now had lost its ironies. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. I have a different game to play; and it'll be your own fault, if you don't come off the winner. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Aware of his father's inflexibility of purpose, he set his wits to work to defeat the design. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated.
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