Without really thinking what she was doing Torilla sat down on the trunk, and the Marquis with his eyes on her face sat beside her.
His horse had followed them and now once again the stallion put his head down seeking the young grass.
“I want an explanation, Torilla,” the Marquis said. “Your eyes are very expressive, so it will be difficult for you to keep any secrets from me.”
“I would – rather you did not – question me.”
“I knew that was what you felt when we dined together,” the Marquis replied. “But the situation has now changed. What you feel now has something to do with me personally, has it not?”
“Yes.”
The monosyllable seemed to be drawn from between Torilla’s lips.
“And it is not simply that you are angry because I kissed you?”
“I was not – angry,” Torilla faltered. “I was
