Eveline did remember him, and how the rich but elderly baronet's attentions, encouraged by her parents, were the ridicule of her girl friends and the bane of her existence; yet she only sighed and remained silent, and, passing through a French window, quitted the drawing-room to join her brother, who was smoking a cigar on the terrace, and teasing the peacocks as they sat on the stately balustrade.
He was in rather a similar mood. He felt the demeanour of Olive after the little episode of the idol keenly, and, remembering the pencilled Byron, was, of course, inclined to connect Hawke Holcroft with that demeanour; so he had certainly become, for a time, cold and constrained in manner to his cousin.
'When was that photo of Olive done?' he asked, rather abruptly.
'The one in the ball dress?'
'Yes.'
'When we were last in Edinburgh; but I do not remember where the studio was.'
'She gave one to that Mr. Holcroft.'
'I was quite unaware that she did so,' said Eveline, with some annoyance of manner.
'Look here, Eve, if, when in London,' grumbled Allan, 'she shies her photos about in this fashion they will soon be in every fellow's possession, and we may, ere long, expect to find them, like those of professional beauties, on glove and match-boxes.'
'What a funny and horrid idea!' said his sister, passing her arm through his and nestling her head on his shoulder, while he, stooping, kissed her mignonne face with a smiling caress.