"That is even odder," says Miss Chesney, who takes an insane delight in teasing him. "What a pity it is you cannot invent some plan for reducing me to order now!"
"There are some tasks too great for a mere mortal to undertake," replies Sir Guy, calmly.
Miss Chesney, not being just then prepared with a crushing retort, wisely refrains from speech altogether, although it is by a superhuman effort she does so. Presently, however, lest he should think her overpowered by the irony of his remark, she says, quite pleasantly:
"Did Cyril ever see me before I came here?"
"No." Then abruptly, "Do you like Cyril?"
"Oh, immensely! He suits me wonderfully, he is so utterly devoid of dignity, and all that. One need not mind what one says to Cyril; in his worst mood he could not terrify. Whereas his brother——" with a little malicious gleam from under her long, heavy lashes.
"Well, what of his brother?"
"Nay, Sir Guy, the month we agreed on has not yet expired," says Lilian. "I cannot tell you what I think of you yet. Still, you cannot imagine how dreadfully afraid I am of you at times."
"If I believed you, it would cause me great regret," says her guardian, rather hurt. "I am afraid, Lilian, your father acted unwisely when he chose Chetwoode as a home for you."
"What! are you tired of me already?" asks she hastily, with a little tremor in her voice, that might be anger, and that might be pain.