"My dear," said Leo, taking her hand, "you are too hard upon poor Frank. I have known him now for many years, and it is reasonable enough that he should be willing to help an old playfellow."
"It is not like him," insisted Miss Tempest. "I hope he is not laying a trap for you, Leo. He is spiteful enough to do that."
"And when he has caught me in his trap, Sybil?"
She shook her head. "It is easy laughing, but I don't like your accepting a favour from that cross-grained little man."
"You are uncharitable, my dear."
"I don't want to be. I am sure I am sorry poor Sir Frank is so afflicted, but I really wish he had a sweeter nature. Besides," her eyes fell and she began to play with a button on Leo's coat, "he is—I think—too fond of me."
"Can anyone be too fond of you?" asked Haverleigh, not taking in the real significance of this remark.
"You do not understand, Leo. I mean that I think he intends to ask me to be his wife. Now don't be angry, for I am not sure if he will. It is only a kind of instinct I have that such is his intention."
Haverleigh, confident in his good looks and virile strength, laughed good-humouredly. "I am not angry, my dear. The idea of that wretched little creature thinking of marriage!"
"Who is uncharitable now, Mr Haverleigh?"