"No. This absurd conversation has gone far enough. I was going to ask you to solve a riddle, but——"
"But what?"
"You are too serious about it."
"Not too serious. It is very important."
"Oh, Barbara, do you know what you are saying?" cries the girl with an angry little stamp, turning to her a face pale and indignant. "You have been telling me in so many words that I am in love with either Mr. Beauclerk or Mr. Dysart. Pray now, for a change, tell me which of them is in love with me."
"Mr. Dysart," says Barbara quietly.
Her sister laughs angrily.
"You think everybody who looks at me is in love with me."
"Not everyone!"
"Meaning Mr. Beauclerk."