When Richmond arrived within comfortable speaking distance of the placid girl with the sweet smile of welcome he began. “How did Vanderkief get this false impression?” said he in a flexible tone, readily convertible either to geniality or to wrathful imperiousness.
“Has he told you I am willing to marry him?” inquired she.
Richmond beamed. “I thought the numskull didn’t know what he was talking about!” he exclaimed. “He says you won’t marry him.”
“Oh,” said Beatrice with her merriest smile. “I thought you said he had a false impression.”
Richmond shook his head impatiently. “Have you or have you not told him you’d not marry him?”
“Yes,” replied Beatrice, eyes dancing with the pleasure of teasing him.
“Yes—what?” demanded he.
“What you said,” replied she.
“Beatrice—I insist on a serious answer. Peter came to me and said——”
“Oh, papa! Surely, you’re not going over that again. You said it all before.”