'What will you do when I go?'
'Much the same as I did before you honoured the Hague with your presence.'
'To me it seems that you care little whether you see me or not.'
'What then?—and it may be so. Cousin Maurice, you are always annoying me by love-making, or by scowling and taunting me about gentlemen visitors.'
'May I hope, however, that you will pay me the compliment of feeling my absence—of missing me a little?'
'That,' replied the provoking beauty, as an arch expression stole into her face, 'may depend upon what amuses or interests me. Oh, pardon me, Maurice—I am so rude!' she added, on perceiving the sombre fury expressed by his sinister face.
'Whatever you think, only say that you will be sorry when I go,' he urged.
'If you do go—which I don't believe—I will be sorry of course, Maurice,' she replied, as she saw the necessity of temporising a little; 'I am always so when I lose anyone or anything that has become familiar to me. Do you not remember how I wept when my poor Bologna spaniel died last year?'
'I do not expect you to weep for me. It would be too much for Maurice Morganstjern to expect to be raised to the level of your spaniel.'
'How sarcastic and unpleasant you are!' exclaimed Dolores, expectant of Lewie Baronald's arrival, and now half dreading that event. 'I wish you would be as faithful as that poor animal was, and as unselfish in your love.'