Playing with Fire: A Story of the Soudan War

by James Grant

'A bright little twaddler!' thought Hester, with a slight curl of her handsome upper lip.

'You talked of the Row—you ride, I suppose?' said Roland to change the subject.

'I have no horse,' replied Annot.

'No horse! At Earlshaugh I shall get you an excellent mount.'

'Oh, thanks so much, cousin Roland!' replied Annot, and while running her slender fingers rapidly to and fro upon the keys she gave him one of her glances which were never given without 'point.'

'You seem pleased with her, Roland?' said Hester as they drew a little way apart.

'Well, I think she is wonderfully fair.'

'Nothing more?'

'Well, fair enough, and all such little golden-haired women since the days of Lucrezia Borgia, I suppose, make no end of mischief.'

'Roland!' said Hester, her eyes dilating.