“Are you teasing me?” she asked, lifting her brows and lowering her lashes.
“Does that mean that no one ever has dared to tease you, and that you don’t even know the signs? When Rollington teases you, is it very different?”
“Rollington never teased me.”
“‘Never teased me.’ Teased—past tense. Then I am right.”
Miss Velrose’s eyes were not as steady as she could have wished. She is a good tease herself. I owed her a few grudges. “Right about what?” she asked with a charming effect of indifference.
“Right about that rustic bench. Forgive me. A man so seldom is right that you can’t expect him to be wholly composed when he blunders into anything.”