“Ah!” she said, “and she was angry because she is in love with you.”
“On the contrary, she hates me even more than you.”
Owen frowned and looked incredulous.
“Now you are talking riddles again—how silly you are! If she hates you, why did she go into your den, and why was she angry with me? I believe you are making the whole thing up.”
“I am not. I do not think she spoke half a dozen civil words to me after the dance, and when I came away she would not shake hands. She told me she much preferred my room to my company.”
“Really?” with dawning interest.
“Really,” emphatically.
“Well, she’s rather interesting after all,” said Gwen, “for no doubt you are the eligible man of the neighbourhood.”
“She wouldn’t care a snap of the fingers for that.”
“Not any more than I do for the woolly lamb’s coronet?”