“I daresay,” he replied, “he praised me as he would anything else that happened to be his. Isn’t that old bay horse of his the best hack in the county?”
“You naughty man! Are you going to be satirical?”
“You claim that as your privilege, do you?”
“Worse and worse! I will not talk to you. But, seriously, for I must go—bring your Italian to—to—” She hesitated.
“To the library—why not?” suggested Hugh.
“No-o,” she answered, shaking her head, and looking quite solemn.
“Well, will you come to my study? Will that please you better?”
“Yes, I will,” she answered, with a definitive tone. “Good-bye, now.”
She opened the door, and having looked out to see that no one was passing, told him to go. As he went, he felt as if the oaken floor were elastic beneath his tread.
It was sometime after the household had retired, however, before Euphra made her appearance at the door of his study. She seemed rather shy of entering, and hesitated, as if she felt she was doing something she ought not to do. But as soon as she had entered, and the door was shut, she appeared to recover herself quite; and they sat down at the table with their books. They could not get on very well with their reading, however. Hugh often forgot what he was about, in looking at her; and she seemed nowise inclined to avert his gazes, or check the growth of his admiration.