said Rosa, equally cautious.

A silence followed.

“Do you think I upset him — that night?” she asked.

“You wish me to be frank?”

“If I had thought you would not be frank I would not have asked you. Do you imagine it is my habit to go about putting awkward questions like that?”

“I think you did upset him very much.”

“You think I was wrong?”

“I do.”

“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted.

I had been bold. A desire took me to be still bolder. She was in the carriage with me. She was not older than I. And were she Rosetta Rosa, or a mere miss taken at hazard out of a drawing-room, she was feminine and I was masculine. In short —