'Can you ask, while treating me thus?'
'Like a thorough Scotch girl, you answer one question by asking another.'
'Well, in constancy men certainly do not bear the palm,' said she, drawing back a pace, and inserting her hands in her muff.
'I think you should be the last to taunt me, at all events, as appearances go.'
There was a moment's silence, for both were too honest and true to have acquired what has been termed 'the useful and social art of talking platitudes' when their hearts were full.
'And this is our long-looked-forward-to meeting?' she said, reproachfully.
'Yes—alas!'
'Why do you regard me—not with the furious rage that possessed you on quitting Craigengowan—but with coldness, doubt, indifference?'
'Indifference! Oh, no, Finella.'
'Doubt—suspicion, then?'