"She pities you," said she, a malicious joy in her soul. "That's akin to something else, you know."
"Confound it all, I don't want to be pitied!"
"Then I'd advise you to defer your 'try' at it," she remarked.
"I'm mad about her, Sara. I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't—yes, I CAN eat, but it doesn't taste right to me. I've just got to have it settled. Why, people are beginning to notice the change in me. They say all sorts of things. About my liver, and all that sort of thing. I'm going to settle it to-night. It's been nearly three weeks now. She's surely had time to think it over; how much better everything will be for her, and all that. She's no fool, Sara. And do you know what Vivian's doing this very instant over there in the corner? She's inviting her to spend a fortnight over at our place. If she comes,—well, that means the engagement will be announced at once."
Sara did not marvel at his assurance in the face of what had gone before. She knew him too well. In spite of the original rebuff, he was thoroughly satisfied in his own mind that Hetty Castleton would not be such a fool as to refuse him the second time.
"It is barely possible, Leslie," she said, "that she may consider Brandon Booth quite as good a catch as you, and infinitely better looking at the present moment."
"It's this beastly sunburn," he lamented, rubbing his nose gently, thinking first of his person. An instant later he was thinking of the other half of the declaration. "That's just what I've been afraid of," he said. "I told you what would happen if that portrait nonsense went on for ever. It's your fault, Sara."
"But I have reason to believe she will not accept him, if it goes so far as that. You are quite safe in that direction."
"'Gad, I'd hate to risk it," he muttered. "I have a feeling she's in love with him."
Vivian approached. "Sara, you must let me have Miss Castleton for the first two weeks in July," she said serenely.