"In other words, we have been quarrelling--about Radowitz--and there seems no way of making it up." "You have only to promise me the very little thing I asked," said Falloden stiffly.
"That I shouldn't dance with him to-night, or again this week?
You call that a little thing ?" "I should have thought it a small thing, compared--" He turned and faced her.

His dark eyes were full of proud agitation--of things unspoken.

But she met them undaunted.
"Compared to--friendship ?" He was silent, but his eyes held her.
"Well then"-- said Constance--"let me repeat that--in my opinion, friendship which asks unreasonable things--is not friendship--but tyranny!" She drew herself up passionately, and gave a smart touch with her whip to the mare's flank, who bounded forward, and had to be checked by Falloden's hand on her bridle.
"Don't get run away with, while you are denouncing me!" he said, smiling, as they pulled up.
"I really didn't want any help!" said Constance, panting.

"I could have stopped her quite easily." "I doubt it.

She is really not the lamb you think her!" "Nor is her mistress: I return the remark." "Which has no point.