"As you are a reigning toast," responds he, quite fired by the late ovation.
"Oh, goodness!" says Mrs. Chichester, shrugging up her thin shoulders and casting a queer glance round her from under her brows; "let us take him away quickly, before he cuts himself with his own smartness."
"Yes. Come down to the library, it's warmer there," says Tita. She leads the way to the door, and when at it looks back over her shoulder at her husband. "Are you coming, Maurice?"
"In a moment or two. I have a few letters to write first."
"And you?" says Tita, looking at Mrs. Bethune.
"I, too, have some letters to write," returns Marian.
Her tone is quite ordinary, but to the young girl gazing at her there seems something defiant in her eyes and her smile. What is it in the smile—a sort of hateful amusement.
Tita leaves the room. She goes out and down the spiral stairs quite collectedly, to all appearance, yet she is not aware for a moment that Margaret's hand is on her arm. For the first time—the first time in all her young and most innocent life—a sin has touched her soul. She has learned to hate—she as yet does not know why—but she knows she hates Marian Bethune.
As the door closes behind her and her guests, Rylton turns on
Marian.
"Why did you say that? Why didn't you go?" says he.