"You seem in a difficulty over your letter," the little lady suggested, in an insinuating tone. "Can I not help you in any way? I have some judgment, and my advice may be of value to you. What is it you want to say to Mr. Armstrong?"
Laline arose, agitated and nervous, and, tearing her letter across, dropped it in the fire.
"It isn't a bit necessary to send it at all," she said; "and that is what made it difficult to write. I met Mr. Armstrong in Kensington Gardens while you were out last Saturday afternoon, and I told him I did not wish to accompany you and Miss Gavan to tea at Mr. Alexander Wallace's. But he took it into his head to want me to go, and wrote to especially ask me. I wanted to write and say I couldn't change my mind—that is all."
"You mean that is all you are going to tell me?"
"I mean that is all that happened."
"Does Clare know?"
"Clare? Oh, no! Why should she?"
Mrs. Vandeleur shook her head.
"You know what I read in the cards about you yesterday," she said, mysteriously. "You must beware of the evil done by a red-haired woman and a black-haired man. Lina, tell me—is Wallace Armstrong in love with you?"
"How can he be when he has seen so little of me?" she asked, parrying the question, and partly vexed, partly glad to talk upon the subject.