You hurt me." Moody dropped her arm with a bitter sigh.

"I don't know how to deal with you," he said simply.

"Have some pity on me!" If the steward had known anything of women (at Isabel's age) he would never have appealed to her mercy in those plain terms, and at the unpropitious moment.

"Pity you ?" she repeated contemptuously.

"Is that all you have to say to me after hurting my arm?
What a bear you are!" She shrugged her shoulders and put her hands coquettishly into the pockets of her apron.