“I suppose I should be grateful! What is it?”
“Why, only that I remembered what you said to me today and you were quite right! At least, I am very nearly sure that you are, but I shall know more certainly in a day or two, I dare say.”
He looked down at her with misgiving. “What mischief are you brewing? Come, out with it, Belle!”
Her eyes danced. “No, I shan’t tell you! You would spoil it all. I think someone is trying to impose upon me, though I am not quite sure yet. It is the most enchanting sport!”
“Oh, my God!” said Ravenscar.
She pinched his arm. “Now don’t, I implore you, Max, put on that fusty face! I promise you I shall not do anything you would not like. And if you are sensible, and don’t let Mama plague me, I shall very likely tell you all about it presently.”
“I suppose you imagine that I like your running off to public masquerade with an adventurer?” said her brother caustically.
“Well, you should have taken me to it yourself, so it is qui your own fault,” said Arabella, dismissing the matter.
“Go up to bed, you baggage,” commanded Ravenscar, never proof against his half-sister’s wiles. “I wish to God I had never been saddled with the care of you! Let me tell you that when you do get married your husband will very likely beat you!”
Miss Ravenscar paused on the staircase, and looked bad the picture of mischief. “Oh, if that were to happen, I should fly back to my dear, kind, fusty, respectable brother!” she promised, and fled.