"That remark is creditable to your penetration," said Mr. Brooke, in his accustomed tone of gentle raillery, "and, you cannot say that it is not a very harmless way of letting off steam."
then?" said Lesley, looking keenly into his face. It was a bold question, but her father did not look displeased.
"Suppose I said—you yourself?" he queried, with a certain real gravity which she was not slow to discover.
The color rushed into her face. She thought of Maurice Kenyon, and the mistake that he had made. She had long been conscious of her father's disappointment, but had not expected him to speak of it. She made an effort to be equal to the situation.
"If you are vexed with me, it would be kinder to tell me of it than to sneer at all womankind in general," she said, with spirit.
"Right you are, my girl. Well—why have you refused Kenyon?"
Her eyes drooped. "I would rather you did not ask me that, father."
"Nonsense, Lesley. A plain answer to a plain question is easy to give. Are you in love with any one else?"
"No, indeed," she answered, vehemently; "I am not——"