‘Number one, my dear?’ said her father, settling her arm comfortably and confidentially.
‘Number one,’ said Bella, ‘will electrify you, Pa. Who do you think has’—she was confused here in spite of her merry way of beginning ‘has made an offer to me?’
Pa looked in her face, and looked at the ground, and looked in her face again, and declared he could never guess.
‘Mr Rokesmith.’
‘You don’t tell me so, my dear!’
‘Mis—ter Roke—smith, Pa,’ said Bella separating the syllables for emphasis. ‘What do you say to that?’
Pa answered quietly with the counter-question, ‘What did you say to that, my love?’
‘I said No,’ returned Bella sharply. ‘Of course.’
‘Yes. Of course,’ said her father, meditating.
‘And I told him why I thought it a betrayal of trust on his part, and an affront to me,’ said Bella.