"Yes, if the weather's fine," Angel answered doubtfully, "not if it rains."
"Oh, of course it will be fine in August!"
"You don't see much of Reginald Hope now, do you?" Angel inquired abruptly.
"No—not a great deal. I—I don't like him so much as I did at first; but, still, he's not a bad sort of fellow, mind you!"
"He's a very cruel boy, at any rate. Dinah Mickle says he bets; does he?"
"What if he does, Angel? It's nothing to do with you."
Gerald looked slightly uneasy as he made this reply, for he saw his sister was regarding him with keen attention. His eyes fell beneath her steady gaze as she said—
"No, of course it's nothing to me, but I thought—I thought—"
She paused in embarrassment, hardly liking to put what she really thought into words; it had occurred to her that it was possible Reginald Hope had prevailed upon her brother to bet, and that he might have been squandering his money in that way; the idea had never entered her head until a few days previously, when Dinah had informed her confidentially that Gilbert and Tom wouldn't have anything to do with Reginald Hope because he made bets and used bad language, and was not a nice boy at all.
"Oh, Gerald!" she cried, after a short pause, "I hope you will never bet! You know what father thinks about people who do!"