"And what is all this Miss Trecarrel has told me?" asked the stranger, in a low voice.
"A foolish flirtation with a boy," replied Rose, laughing. "It was all a joke. Be assured that he never asked me to favour him with my agreeable society for the term of his natural life."
"By Jove! I should think not," was the rather dubious response of the visitor.
"And some bread-and-butter Miss now a-bed, perhaps, in England will console him in the future, if the memory of me survive so long."
"Mabel says you are over head and ears in love with him."
"Psha! how can you talk so? I am out of my teens, and the time has gone by for me falling over head and ears for anybody. Come, don't be foolish, friend Audley," she continued, gazing into the same eyes which looked so softly into those of Sybil by the lonely moorland tarn. "Do you think," she added, laughing, "I have been writing 'Mrs. and Ensign Devereaux' in my blotting-pad, just to see how the conjunction looked; for Denzil, you know, poor fellow, is very young and only an ensign."
Denzil felt as if petrified; and but last night he had risked his life to procure a bauble for her!
"But you certainly have been letting him make love to you," resumed the stranger, in a tone of combined reproval and banter.
"Well, it is rather pleasant to have a nice foolish boy to make love to one, to tease and to laugh at."
"Oh, indeed!" His tone was almost contemptuous; but in her vanity Rose failed to perceive this.