“Please give me my sketch, Mr. Byron,” she said, her cheeks red with anger. Puzzled, he turned to Lydia for an explanation, while Alice seized the sketch and packed it in her portfolio.
“It is getting rather warm,” said Lydia. “Shall we return to the castle?”
“I think we had better,” said Alice, trembling with resentment as she walked away quickly, leaving Lydia alone with Cashel, who presently exclaimed,
“What in thunder have I done?”
“You have made an inconsiderate remark with unmistakable sincerity.”
“I only tried to cheer her up. She must have mistaken what I said.”
“I think not. Do you believe that young ladies like to be told that there is no occasion for them to be ridiculously self-conscious?”
“I say that! I’ll take my oath I never said anything of the sort.”
“You worded it differently. But you assured her that she need not object to have her drawing overlooked, as it is of no importance to any one.”
“Well, if she takes offence at that she must be a born fool. Some people can’t bear to be told anything. But they soon get all that thin-skinned nonsense knocked out of them.”