"How are you feeling?" she asked in the same tone she used on summer afternoons, when some of the town's children came to sit beside the lake with her and listen while she read stories. He ruined everything by saying, "I don't like your hair that way. It makes you look like a spinster." Emma couldn't help bristling. "Did it ever occur to you that I might want to look like a proper lady?" "Why?" grumbled Steven, reaching for his book. "I don't have to stand here and be insulted!" Emma flared, wounded because a lady was what she most wanted to be. "Honestly, Mr. Fairfax--you are the most arrogant, impossible man!" He smiled mischievously. "I'd like you to call me that from now on--in public, at least. Mr. Fairfax." He paused to relish the name. "Yes, I'd like that very much." If there had been anything in Emma's hand, she would have thrown it at him. "You can't possibly think I mean to speak to you at all after this!" He laughed. "You'll do a whole lot more than speak, Miss Emma." Emma gave a strangled scream of fury and once again fled the room, striding along the hallway and down the rear stairs."