“I never said any such thing.”
“I have it from his own lips.”
“It isn't true; I will ask him to your face if he ever said such a thing; I will tell father that.”
“Well, there's no use in quarrelling,” said Grace, “and I wouldn't advise you to worry father about it. You know he can't stand the name of Meason. It seems to me that neither of you care much whom you flirt with, you like so many young men.”
“It is better to like a dozen young men than one old one.”
“I shan't marry Mr. Berkins, no matter what you say. However, you can't accuse me of interfering in your affairs.”
“No, you don't.”
“No more do I. If you want Frank, take him, only don't come sneaking after Charley. I don't want Frank; I don't care twopence about him. If you want to see it out with him, I shan't interfere; only don't you come interfering with me and Jimmy, or Charley either.”
Maggie did not like the idea of Sally getting two to her one. She would have liked to have introduced a proviso about Alfred, but the title Mount Rorke slipped between her thoughts, and she refrained. She knew the present treaty secured her immunity from Sally only so long as the affections and attentions of Jimmy and Charley showed no signs of declension, and she was aware that her promise would only hold good so long as Frank interested and Charley remained away in London.
The canary that had been twittering, now burst forth into long and prolonged shrillings. Grace folded up her work along her knees; and holding it in her hand like a roll of music, she said that they would never hear the end of this tennis party.