“Don’t be horrid! You know what I mean.”
Lionel did not know, but she had never before shown so clearly what she thought about Jocelyn’s opinion of her. Lionel was interested, and thought he knew her well enough to ask a direct question.
“You like Jocelyn, don’t you?” He looked at her quietly.
“Do you mind?” inquired Anne, with a short laugh.
“Not a bit. But, as a matter of fact, my mother has got it into her head that it’s your duty to like me.” He laughed too.
“I didn’t mean to be cheeky,” answered Lionel. “But as we are very good friends, and seem to be expected to fall in love with each other, though we never shall, it’s just as well to be frank, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I was only chaffing. You’re quite right.”
“Very well. Then you won’t mind if I tell you just what I think. You like Jocelyn, and you are quite sure he does not care for you. Is that it?”
Anne Trevelyan did not answer for a moment, and there was a little more colour in her handsome face. “Yes,” she said, after a few seconds. “That’s it. Rather humiliating, isn’t it? All the same, I would rather that you should know.”