'Olive—how can you talk thus?' expostulated soft little Eveline; 'his delay is probably all papa's fault.'
'I am sure that I shall hate him then!'
'Query?' said Eveline, with a saucy smile on her lovely lips.
'There is no query in this case,' persisted Olive, as she set down her cup with a jerk; for in her spirit of freedom there was at times a curious but unexpressed antagonism in her heart to the family of Aberfeldie, as if she felt herself somewhat in their power, and even to her own disadvantage, and this spirit, which Holcroft was not slow to discover, had rather encouraged his hopes.
'He will be sure to love you, at all events, Olive dear, if he has any sense or power of observation at all—you are so pretty—nay, so charming.'
'Any fool may love a pretty face, and generally does so.'
'But you possess much more than a pretty face, Olive.'
'Yes—the fortune which I am to share with him ere my twenty-fifth year.'
'Or, if you refuse——'
'One half of it goes to him, and the other, or nearly so, to charitable institutions,' exclaimed Olive, her sweet face paling with absolute anger.