“Well, after all, I should not complain: perhaps few people gain their livelihood with so much pleasure in their toil as I do. Here is some one coming.”
She seemed vexed at the interruption.
“It is only Mr. Lawrence and Miss Wilson,” said I, “coming to enjoy a quiet stroll. They will not disturb us.”
I could not quite decipher the expression of her face; but I was satisfied there was no jealousy therein. What business had I to look for it?
“What sort of a person is Miss Wilson?” she asked.
“She is elegant and accomplished above the generality of her birth and station; and some say she is ladylike and agreeable.”
“I thought her somewhat frigid and rather supercilious in her manner to-day.”
“Very likely she might be so to you. She has possibly taken a prejudice against you, for I think she regards you in the light of a rival.”
“Me! Impossible, Mr. Markham!” said she, evidently astonished and annoyed.
“Well, I know nothing about it,” returned I, rather doggedly; for I thought her annoyance was chiefly against myself.