Roane laughed while he bent over and pinched Letty's cheek. That he had a bad reputation, Caroline was aware, and though she was obliged to admit that he looked as if he deserved it, she could not deny that he possessed the peculiar charm which one of the old novels at The Cedars described as "the most dangerous attribute of a rake." "I could never like him, yet I can understand how some women might fall in love with him," she thought.
"No, I decline, with thanks, your generous offer," Roane was saying. "If I cannot be nursed by an angel, I will not be nursed by a witch."
Beneath his insolent, admiring gaze a lovely colour flooded Caroline's cheeks. In the daylight his manner seemed to her more offensive than ever, and her impulsive recognition of his charm was followed by an instantaneous recoil.
"I don't like witches," said Letty. "Do you think Miss Meade is an angel, Uncle Roane?"
"From first impressions," retorted Roane flippantly, "I should say that she might be."
As Caroline turned away indignantly, Angelica leaned over and gently patted her hand. "You mustn't mind him, my dear, that's just Roane's way," she explained.
"But I do mind," replied Caroline, with spirit. "I think he is very impertinent."
"Think anything you please, only think of me," rejoined Roane, with a gallant air.
"You bad boy!" protested Angelica. "Can't you see that Miss Meade is provoked with you?"
"No woman, Anna Jeannette, is provoked by a sincere and humble admiration. Are you ignorant of the feminine heart?"