He turned his head at her words and smiled, a mischievous boyish smile that proclaimed their relationship on the instant.
"Ye gods!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that you're in love with him?"
Chris was silent. She seemed to be watching something in the road below her with absorbing interest.
"You needn't trouble to keep your back turned," gibed the brotherly voice behind her. "I can see you are the colour of beetroot even at this distance. Curious, very! But I'm glad you are so becomingly modest. It's the first indication of the virtue that I have ever detected in you."
"You beast!" said Chris.
She whirled suddenly round, half-laughing, half-resentful, seized a book from a table near, and hurled it with accurate aim at her brother's head.
He flung up a dexterous hand and caught it just as the door opened to admit Mordaunt, who had been asked to dine to meet his future brother-in-law.
Rupert was on his feet in a moment. With the book pressed against his heart, he swept a low bow to the advancing stranger.
"You come in the nick of time," he observed, "to preserve me from my sister's fratricidal intentions. Perhaps you would like to arbitrate. The offence was that I accused her of being in love—with you, of course. She seems to think the assertion unwarrantable."
"Oh, Trevor, don't listen!" besought Chris. "He only goes on like that because he thinks it's clever. Do snub him as he deserves!"