“What is your own?”
“I may truly say I feel mortified and vexed by being disposed of like a bale of goods——”
“Not exactly, dearest girl. You are left an option.”
“I do not like Captain Desfrayne.”
“That can scarcely be wondered at, since he treats you so coldly—almost rudely. What a strange old man this Vere Gardiner must have been! Why should he take such a singular whim into his head?”
“I do not know. You now know as much—or as little—as I do myself.”
“It is a riddle,” said Blanche. “What does Lady Quaintree say?”
“She is very much pleased about the money and landed property—as pleased and interested as if I were her own child; but she has not said much about the proposition of marriage.”
“I suppose she wishes to see more of this gentleman. This afternoon, when I first saw Captain Desfrayne, I liked him: he seemed nice, and had such a gentle way with him, and his voice was pleasant. But now I have taken a prejudice against him.”
At this moment, Blanche caught sight of her father, Squire Dormer, who had just entered the drawing-room, where the elder ladies sat.