"And you, too, Ferdy, eh?" she retorted, glancing round at him wickedly.
He did not flush, but met her gaze steadily.
"And I, too, Florence," he said, gravely.
"Oh, Ferdy," she exclaimed, clasping her hands, "I am so glad!—I am so happy! I thought it was so, but I only thought. And—oh, I don't know what to say—and when are you going to tell her?" she demanded impetuously.
"I have told her," he said, quietly.
"And—oh!" for she read the result in his eyes.
"Never mind," he said, gently; "all is not lost yet. But do not speak of it—least of all to her. Have you seen her to-day—has she been down?"
"I have seen her, but she has not been down. She has kept her own apartments, and has been working; and yet only a very little, I think. Oh, Ferdy, it can't be because she doesn't love you; that's impossible."
"Thank you," he said, forcing a smile. "You will thrive at court, Florrie."
"But it can't be! There must be something else—somebody else!"