And quickly her little hands put a rosebud into the peer's lapel, but in a mechanical and task-work manner, while there was an expression on her lips—and full, delicate, and emotional lips they were—and in her small, pale face, with its decided little chin, that prevented him from greatly appreciating the gift as a younger man would have done; so the attempt even at flirtation fell flat.
'Papa does so love tea-roses; we used to have such lovely ones at Essilmont,' said Alison.
'Your poor papa!' said Cadbury, softly, 'when you marry, how lonely he will be!'
Alison shrank back uneasily, as she thought of Bevil Goring, and replied—
'I don't mean ever to marry.'
'Indeed! why so cruel to some one in particular? and why in any sense?'
'I could never leave dear old papa in our—our changed circumstances; we are so much to each other.'
'But, in marrying, you need not lose him.'
'I don't think he would care to share me with another.'
'How absurd, Miss Cheyne!'