the fair face she was watching, she added in haste, ‘It is this project, he thought you had said it was given up.’
‘I am much indebted,’ said Lucilla, haughtily, but again relapsing into laughter; ‘but to find myself so easily disposed of . . . Oh! Phœbe, there’s no scolding such a baby as you; but if it were not so absurd—’
‘Lucy, Lucy, I beg your pardon; is it all a mistake, or have I said what was wrong? Poor Robin will be so unhappy.’
Phœbe’s distress touched Lucilla.
‘Nonsense, you little goose; aren’t you woman enough yet to know that one flashes out at finding oneself labelled, and made over before one’s time?’
‘I’m glad if it was all my blundering,’ said Phœbe. ‘Dear Lucy, I was very wrong, but you see I always was so happy in believing it was understood!’
‘How stupid,’ cried Lucilla; ‘one would never have any fun; no, you haven’t tasted the sweets yet, or you would know one has no notion of being made sure of till one chooses! Yes, yes, I saw he was primed and cocked, but I’m not going to let him go off.’
‘Lucy, have you no pity?’
‘Not a bit! Don’t talk commonplaces, my dear.’
‘If you knew how much depends upon it.’