"Oh, pray don't try to make me more uncomfortable than I am," she says, sharply. "I can imagine how unlovely I am looking. I detest the country: it means simply destruction to one's clothes and manners," pointedly. "It has been raining ever since I came back from Shropshire."
"What a pity you did come back just yet!" says Cyril, with quite sufficient pause to throw an unpleasant meaning into his words. "As to the country, I entirely agree with you; give me the town: it never rains in the town."
"If it does, one has a carriage at hand. How did you manage to keep yourself so dry, Cyril?"
"There is plenty of good shelter round here, if one chooses to look for it."
"Evidently; very good shelter, I should say. One would almost think you had taken refuge in a house."
"Then one would think wrong. Appearances, you know, are often deceitful."
"They are indeed. What a beautiful rose that is!"
"Was, you mean. It has seen its best days. By the bye, when you were so near The Cottage, why didn't you go in and stay there until the rain was over?"
"I shouldn't dream of asking hospitality from such a very suspicious sort of person as this Mrs. Arlington seems to be," Miss Beauchamp replies, with much affectation and more spitefulness.
"You are right,—you always are," says Cyril, calmly. "One should shun the very idea of evil. Extreme youth can never be too careful. Good-bye for the present, Florence; I fear I must tear myself away from you, as duty calls me in this direction." So saying, he turns into another path, preferring a long round to his home to a further tête-à-tête with the charming Florence.