"Yes, I see it is."
And with this crushing retort Fanny Trehearne relapsed into silence. Lawrence began to drink his tea, burnt his mouth with courageous indifference, stirred up the sugar gravely, and said nothing.
"I wonder when they'll get home," said Fanny, after a long interval.
"Are you anxious about them?" enquired the young man, with affected politeness.
"Anxious? No! I was only wondering."
"I'm not very amusing, I know," said Lawrence, grimly.
"No, you're not."
The blood rushed to his face again with his sudden irritation, and he drank more hot tea to keep himself in countenance. At that moment he sincerely wished that he had not come to Bar Harbour at all.
"You're not particularly encouraging, Miss Trehearne," he said presently. "I'm sure, I'm doing my best to be agreeable."
"And you think that I'm doing my best to be disagreeable? I'm not, you know. It's your imagination."