His expression was peevish.

Geraldine, confused, began hurriedly: "I thought Mr.Dysart meant to ask me to dance." "_Meant_ to ?" interrupted Mallett, laughing; "_I_ mean to ask for this dance, and I do." Once more she turned and encountered Dysart's darkening gaze, hesitated, then with a nervous, gay little gesture to him, partly promise, partly adieu, she took Mallett's arm.
It was the first glimmer of coquetry she had ever deliberately displayed; and at the same instant she became aware that something new had been suddenly awakened in her--something which stole like a glow through her veins, exciting her with its novelty.
"Do you know," she said, "that you have taken me forcibly away from an exceedingly nice man ?" "I don't care." "Oh--but might I not at least have been consulted ?" "Didn't you want to come ?" he asked, stopping short.

There was something overbearing in his voice and his straight, unwavering gaze.
She didn't know how to take it, how to meet it.

Voice and manner required some proper response which seemed to be beyond her experience.
She did not answer; but a slight pressure of her bare arm set him in motion again.
The phenomenon interested her; to see what control over this abrupt young man she really had she ventured a very slight retrograde arm-pressure, then a delicate touch to right, to left, and forward once more.

It was most interesting; he backed up, guided right and left, and started forward or halted under perfect control.