'You don't propose, I imagine, to leave me at a moment's notice ?' She was bending over her table, and did not look up.
'Oh yes, I will stay my month.' He sat speechless, watching her.

She very quickly finished what she was doing, and taking up her note-book, and some half-written letters, she left the room.
'A pretty state of things!' said the Squire, and thrusting his long hands into his pockets he began to pace the library, in the kind of temper that may be imagined--given the man and the circumstances.
The difference, however, between this occasion and others lay in the fact that the penalties of temper had grown so unjustly heavy.

The Squire felt himself hideously aggrieved.

Abominable!--that he should be hindered in his just rights and opinions by this indirect pressure from a woman, whom he couldn't wrestle with and floor, as he would a man, because of her sex.

That was always the way with women.