“Thank you,” said Everitt, gravely; “in fact, however, I am come to say that I am not coming.”
His cousin stared blankly at him.
“Not coming!” she repeated, faintly. “But, Charlie, that is absurd! You don’t know.”
“I fancy,” he said, “that I do know. Unless I’m much mistaken, I could read between the lines of your letter. Is Miss Lascelles to be one of the party?”
“Yes,” she said, “she is.”
“And does she expect to see me?”
“Not yet. But,”—eagerly—“I was not going to spring a mine upon her.”
He listened very carefully while she explained her intentions, and when she had finished was silent for a few moments. There was that in his face which caused her misgivings.
“Charlie,” she said impressively, “you will not be so odious as to upset my little arrangements!”
“It seems to me,” he said, “that I am doomed to be odious in everything connected with this affair. It’s not a pleasant rôle.”