And he looked at Rosalie, and his eyes were laughing, though his face and voice were as serious as those of a judge.
The old distaste rose in her, as of some dumb thing against a cruel and powerful oppressor. But she said:
“Do you indulge in scandal, Mr. Barringcourt? I thought it was the recreation of idle women.”
“Oh, no,” he answered, with the coolness of rudeness. “Idle women in these parts are known by the sharpness of their tongues.”
“I’m very sorry,” she answered, suddenly changing in tone and manner, “but I can’t help liking the Great High Priest; and as for Golden Priest Alphonso—I detest him.”
“Oh, dear! dear!” said Miss Crokerly, with agitation, laying her hand on Rosalie’s knee. “You must not talk like that, Rosalie, indeed, you must not. It is not usual. Remember he is Mr. Barringcourt’s friend, and bears an excellent reputation.”
But as the carriage drew up, she stopped speaking of necessity.
“You will drive on, will you not?” asked Sir John.
“No, thank you. I’ll get out, and borrow whatever Miss Crokerly cares to lend me. I never had a cold in my life. The experience would be new to me.”
So he came with them into the house, and seemed in no particular hurry to depart. Rosalie said to him: