"I shan't," says Dare; "I shan't make myself ridiculous for a girl who detests me."
"Now, isn't that just like him?" says Dulce, appealing to the company at large, who are enjoying themselves intensely—notably Mr. Brown. "Simply because I told him it would give me some slight pleasure if he fulfilled his promise, he has decided on breaking it. He has refused to keep his solemn word, just to vex me."
"That is not my reason."
"Then you are afraid of the high-heeled shoes," with a scornful laugh.
"I am afraid of nothing," hotly.
"Not even of ridicule?"
"Well, yes, I am afraid of that. Most fellows are. But I don't wish to carry on the argument, I have nothing more to say to you."
"Nor I to you. I hope you will never address me again as long as you live. Ah!" glancing out of the window, with an assumption of the most extreme relief and joy—"Here is Mr. Gower coming across the lawn. I am glad. Now, at least, I shall have some one to talk to me, who will not scold and quarrel incessantly, and who can sometimes behave like a gentleman."
"Tell him so. It will raise him to the seventh heaven of delight, no doubt," says Roger, in an indescribable tone.
"I thought it was arranged that we were not to speak to each other again," says Dulce, with considerable severity.