“I heard so,” was the short reply; and in a tone so dry and significant that a dead silence followed.
“Pretty spaniel, that,” said Norwood, trying a slight sortie into the enemy's camp. “A present, I suppose, from Midchekoff?”
“Yes.”
“It is not clean bred, however, no more than his late master. Have you seen much of the Prince?”
“He comes here every evening, after the Opera.”
“What a bore that must be he is a most insufferable proser.”
“I must say I disagree with you; I reckon him excessively agreeable.”
“How changed you must be, Hes—Lady Hester.”
“I believe I am, my Lord.”
“And yet you look the same the very same as when we sauntered for hours through the old woods at Dipsley.” She blushed deeply; less, perhaps, at the words, than at the look which accompanied them.