Randal’s eyes glowed with sudden fire; his face flushed deeply red.
“That was very unhandsome of her,” he said curtly, “and by your leave it was very derogatory to both you and me for you to consent to discuss it.”
“Why should I decline to discuss it when she introduced the subject,—as if I felt that you were humiliated in the matter or had anything to regret?”
“It would seem that neither of you were hampered with any delicacy of sentiment or sensitiveness.”
“She spoke to me of a gift of yours that she had failed to return. She wished me to convey it to you. But I referred her to the registered mail or the express.”
“That was polite, at all events.”
“I told her that the relations between my brother and myself were peculiarly tender, and that I would not allow her to come between us. And, with that, I bowed myself away.”
Randal’s eyes gloomed on the fire, with many an unwelcome thought of an old and shattered romance. But when he spoke, it was of the present.
“Adrian, I am sorry I was so short with you. Of course I know you could not openly avoid the topic forced upon you in that way. I am sure, too, that you did not fail to take full cognizance of my dignity, as well as your own. I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for a million dollars.”
“Well, you did it,” retorted Adrian, “and nobody that I know of has offered you so much as fifty cents. It was a gratuitous piece of meanness on your part. And you can take that paw off me,” glancing down with affected repugnance at Randal’s caressing hand laid on his sleeve.