“But, mademoiselle, we are not come to them yet, and the faster we go now the sooner we shall.”
“Yes; but I always like to get a disagreeable thing over as soon as possible,” said Rose, slyly.
“Ah,” replied Edouard, mournfully, “in that case let us make haste.”
After a little spurt, mademoiselle relaxed the pace of her own accord, and even went slower than before. There was an awkward silence. Edouard eyed the park boundary, and thought, “Now what I have to say I must say before we get to you;” and being thus impressed with the necessity of immediate action, he turned to lead.
Rose eyed him and the ground, alternately, from under her long lashes.
At last he began to color and flutter. She saw something was coming, and all the woman donned defensive armor.
“Mademoiselle.”
“Monsieur.”
“Is it quite decided that your family refuse my acquaintance, my services, which I still—forgive me—press on you? Ah! Mademoiselle Rose, am I never to have the happiness of—of—even speaking to you?”
“It seems so,” said Rose, ironically.