“Certainly,” said Rose.
As Jacintha was retiring Edouard called to her to stop a minute.
Then, turning to Rose, he begged her very ceremoniously to reconsider that determination.
“What determination?”
“To sacrifice me to this Colonel Dujardin.” Still politely, only a little grimly.
Rose opened her eyes. “Are you mad?” inquired she with quiet hauteur.
“Neither mad nor a fool,” was the reply. “I love you too well to share your regard with any one, upon any terms; least of all upon these, that there is to be a man in the world at whose beck and call you are to be, and at whose orders you are to break off an interview with me. Perdition!”
“Dear Edouard, what folly! Can you suspect me of discourtesy, as well as of—I know not what. Colonel Dujardin will join us, that is all, and we shall take a little walk with him.”
“Not I. I decline the intrusion; you are engaged with me, and I have things to say to you that are not fit for that puppy to hear. So choose between me and him, and choose forever.”
Rose colored. “I should be very sorry to choose either of you forever; but for this afternoon I choose you.”