'I don't think you can see her now.'
'Her—who?' asked Falconer, with surprise.
'Well, my cousin; for I think you evidently admire her.'
'An odd remark!' thought Cecil, looking a little annoyed; but he said, cordially:
'I do indeed admire her; who could fail to do so? But what leads you to infer that I do so more particularly?'
'By Jove! I saw that your eyes were seldom off her; but it is no use, Mr. Falconer,' said Hew, with a pretended genial laugh, 'as she has no eyes in reality—save for one fellow.'
'What the deuce can he mean?' thought Falconer, a little annoyed by the speaker's manner, which seemed to indicate advice or warning, or impertinence.
'You are cousins, then?' he merely said coldly.
'Well, of course, in a manner of way—rather remote, you know,' replied Hew, his closely-set eyes looking more shifty than ever, as he scraped a match and lighted a huge cigar; 'but blood is thicker than water, and it goes a long way in Scotch reckonings; and thus she naturally looks to me as the future head of the house,' he added complacently, 'as the heir of entail. And Mary is indeed handsome! There was no girl handsomer out last season, or when she was presented—I mean in the quiet and thoroughbred style.'
'What a cad this fellow is!' thought Falconer.