"Quite serious."
"Ah!"
A pause. Miss Beauchamp takes up two shades of wool and examines them critically. They are so exactly alike that it can make little difference which she chooses. But she is methodical, and would die rather than make one false stitch in a whole acre of canvas. Having made her choice of the two shades, she returns to the attack.
"I had no idea you liked your cousin so much," she says.
"So much! How much?" says Lilian, quickly turning very red. Her cousin is a sore subject with her just now. "I do not think we are speaking of Archibald."
"No; but I thought you said——"
"Nothing of him, I am sure," still hastily.
"Oh! I beg your pardon. I quite fancied——" Here she pauses, somewhat mystified. Then, "You and he are very good friends, are you not?"
"Very," coldly.
"And yet," with an elephantine attempt at playfulness, "I certainly did think last night some quarrel had arisen between you. He looked so savage when you were dancing with Captain Monk. His eyes are handsome, but at times I have noticed a gleam in them that might safely be termed dangerous."