"Oh Rosanna, Rosanna"—the girl kept it up—"how you adore him; and how you make me therefore, wretch that I am, fiendishly want to see him!"
But it might quite have glanced now from our friend's idol surface. "You're the best of us, no doubt—very much; and I immensely hope you'll like him, since you've been so extraordinarily prepared. It's to be supposed too that he'll have some sense of his own."
Cissy continued rapt. "Oh but you're deep—deep deep deep!"
It came out as another presence again, that of Davey Bradham, who had the air of rather restlessly looking for her, emerged from one of the long windows of the house, just at hand, to meet Rosanna's eyes. She found herself glad to have him back, as if further to inform him. Wasn't it after all rather he that was the best of them and by no means Cissy? Her face might at any rate have conveyed as much while she reported of that young lady. "She thinks me so deep."
It made the girl, who had not seen him, turn round; but with an immediate equal confidence. "And she thinks me, Davey, so good!"
Davey's eyes were only on Cissy, but Rosanna seemed to feel them on herself. "How you must have got mixed!" he exclaimed. "But your father has come for you," he then said to Rosanna, who had got up.
"Father has walked it?"—she was amazed.
"No, he's there in a hack to take you home—and too excited to come in."
Rosanna's surprise but grew. "Has anything happened——?"
"Wonders—I asked them. Mr. Betterman's sitting right up."