'It's a curious coincidence that ever since then you've been out to everyone else,' said Anne.
'I don't really like him—so very much. When he does smile, of course it's rather nice. Why does he hate me?'
'I can't think,' said Anne.
'He doesn't hate me! How can you say so?' cried Hyacinth.
'Doesn't he?'
'Perhaps it's because he thinks I look Spanish. He may disapprove of looking Spanish,' suggested Hyacinth.
'Very likely.'
Hyacinth laughed, kissed her, and went out. Anne followed her graceful figure with disapproving, admiring eyes.
CHAPTER II
The Anxieties of Sir Charles