'Hester,' said Maude, with arms affectionately twined round her, 'I used to think that you and Roland were very fond of each other!'
'So we were,' said Hester in a low voice.
'Were?'
'Are, I mean—very fond of each other. Why should we be otherwise?' stammered poor Hester, turning away for a moment.
'I mean—I thought (uncle Harry used to quiz you both so much!) he cared for you, and you for him more—more——'
'Than cousins usually do?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, no—no—you mistake, dear Maude.'
'Well—it seems Annot now; and yet I hope—ah, no—it cannot be.'
One fact soon became too apparent to Roland Lindsay: that his sister Maude did not like Annot Drummond now, if she ever did.