Brett Forrester proceeded along diametrically opposite lines. No nuances or
subtle shades of feeling complicated life for him. He knew exactly what he
wanted and went straight for it, all out, and Ann was conscious that she
was fighting a losing battle in her effort to keep him at a distance. He
had never, so far, made deliberate love to her, but there was a certain
imperious possessiveness in his manner, a definite innuendo in his gay,
audacious speeches which she found it very hard to combat. He seemed
entirely oblivious of any lack of response on her part, and there was a
light-hearted, irresponsible charm and camaraderie about him that was
difficult to resist.
"What's the matter with you this morning?" he demanded one day when Ann had
successfully infused a little formality into her manner.
"Nothing. Why should there be?" she returned.
"No reason at all. Only you seemed to be emulating the stiffness of a
ramrod, and I thought you must be getting frightened of me--rigid with
fear, you know"--impudently.
What could any one do but laugh? It was useless to try and treat him with
aloof dignity if he promptly interpreted it as a sign of fear.
"I don't see anything in you to inspire terror," Ann submitted.
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