“You’re much handsomer than they are, at any rate. I really think, Deborah, without any joking, that you are the handsomest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, you have something more interesting than that to tell me, I suppose. I want to know all about yourself; I’m not so submissive as mamma, remember, and you can’t put me off as you can her.”
“No, I’m afraid you’re rather inclined to be strong-minded, Deb. No need to ask whether you’re still heart whole and fancy free. No man would ever have the courage to make up to you.”
“They have though; you will be surprised to hear that I’ve had two offers, and that I refused them both because I was not heart whole and fancy free.”
Rees looked rather pleased. Grave, almost solemn as her manner was, there was a tell-tale shyness in her glance, a marked maidenly reserve about her actions, which told the already blasé young man that her interest in him was as strong as ever.
“I can guess who the offers were from,” said he. “Godwin and Hervey.”
“No,” she said simply, “I didn’t count them.”
“Indeed, that’s flattering to us poor Pennants, to hear we don’t count.”
Deborah said nothing to this.
“And in all this crowd of admirers, I suppose you never find time for a thought of me? Being a Pennant, I suppose I don’t count either.”