n pushed his cup aside.
"You may do what you like," he said, "I'm staying here."

James Forsyte replied, tumbling over his own words: "Why! what do you
want to stay here for? There's nothing for you to do here--there's
nothing to see here, unless you go up the Citadel, an' you won't do
that."

Swithin growled, "Who says so?" Having gratified his perversity, he felt
in a better temper. He had slung his arm in a silk sash, and accounted
for it by saying he had slipped. Later he went out and walked on to the
bridge. In the brilliant sunshine spires were glistening against the
pearly background of the hills; the town had a clean, joyous air.
Swithin glanced at the Citadel and thought, 'Looks a strong place!
Shouldn't wonder if it were impregnable!' And this for some occult
reason gave him pleasure. It occurred to him suddenly to go and look for
the Hungarian's house.

About noon, after a hunt of two hours, he was gazing about him blankly,
pale with heat, but more obstinate than ever, when a voice above him
called, "Mister!" He looked up and saw Rozsi. She was leaning her round
chin on her round hand, gazing down at him with her deepset, clever
eyes. When Swithin removed his hat, she clapped her hands. Again he
had the sense of being admired, caressed. With a careless air, that sat
grotesquely on his tall square person, he walked up to the door; both
girls stood in the passage. Swithin felt a confused desire to speak in
some foreign tongue. "Maam'selles," he began, "er--bong jour-er, your
father--pare, comment?"

"We also speak English," said the elder girl; "will you come in,
please?"

Swithin swallowed a misgiving, and entered. The room had a worn
appearance by daylight, as if it had always been the nest of tragic or
vivid lives. He sat down, and his eyes said: "I am a stranger, but don't
try to get the better of me, please--that is impossible." The girls
looked at him in silence. Rozsi wore a rather short skirt of black
stuff, a white shirt, and across her shoulders an embroidered yoke; her
sister was dressed in dark green, with a coral necklace; both girls had
their hair in plaits. After a minute Rozsi touched the sleeve of his
hurt arm.

"It's nothing!" muttered Swithin.

"Father fought with a chair, but you had no chair," she said in a
wondering voice.

He doubled the fist of his sound arm and struck a blow at space. To his
amazement she began to laugh. Nettled at this, he put his hand beneath
the heavy tab