He came towards her, assuring her that his evening had been delightful.
Lizzie was happy, happier than she could ever remember to have been before. She felt her cheeks burn. She leant out of the window to cool them. She flung back, over her shoulder:
"By the way, Mr. Breton—a piece of gossip. Your cousin is to marry Sir Roderick Seddon!"
She could not see him. He said nothing. Mrs. Rand said:
"Really, Lizzie! How interesting! How long's that been announced?"
"Oh! it isn't announced. I don't believe that he's even asked her, but all the house knows it. It's settled. I believe she likes him immensely and, of course, the Duchess is devoted to him."
Anything would do to talk about. What did it matter? Only that she should keep on talking so that they should not see how happy she was—how happy!
He said good night, rather sharply; his voice was constrained as though he too were keeping in his emotion.
After he had gone Mrs. Rand said, "I don't like him, my dear. I can't help it—you may laugh at me—but my impressions are always right. He hardly spoke to me all the evening."
"Why, mother, you were reading. How could he?"