“Now,” he exclaimed. “So you are playing fast and loose with Luke Ross?”
“No, uncle,” she replied, softly.
“What do you call it, then? Of course there is no engagement between you, but Luke expects that some day you will be his wife.”
“Yes, uncle.”
“And as soon as his back is turned, I find you encouraging this fellow, Cyril Mallow.”
“No, indeed, uncle, I have not,” cried Sage.
“I don’t be—”
He stopped, for there was something in his niece’s eyes which checked him.
“Well, it looks very bad,” he said; “and one thing is very evident—he, after a fashion, thinks of you, and he has the impudence to say that you care for him.”
“Oh!”