‘Oh, I think Mr. Camm is not very fond of me.’
‘Oh, Miss Wynter, I assure you——’ began Ada, reddening vividly.
‘There, never mind. Young men will do their own way, I know. You must know, Miss Askam,’ she added, turning to Eleanor, ‘Miss Dixon has a stalwart protector in the shape of her betrothed, Mr. Roger Camm.’
‘Oh, indeed.’
‘He is Dr. Langstroth’s greatest friend, you know,’ pursued Magdalen. ‘They live in the same house, and are quite inseparable.’
‘Yes,’ said Eleanor, wondering within herself whether this Roger Camm formed, intellectually or socially, any connecting link between Michael Langstroth and Ada Dixon, for it appeared to her that there was a considerable distance between them in every way.
Ada had now finished her tea. Of course, she did not reveal to her hostess that Roger Camm had said nothing would induce him to set foot within the Balder Hall walls, but that he would walk the two miles from Bradstane to meet his sweetheart, rather than let her return alone in the dark, or be dependent upon Miss Wynter’s good nature for an escort or a carriage.
‘Would you mind giving us a song, Ada?’ said the latter. ‘I am sure Miss Askam would like it, and I want to hear how you have progressed since the last time I heard you.’
‘Oh, with pleasure,[pleasure,]’ said Ada, with an undeniable simper, as she pulled off her gloves and went to the piano. She unrolled some music, sat down, and had just run her fingers over the keys, when the door was again opened, and this time it was Otho who walked in. He paused a moment, looked round, and then said—
‘Holloa, Ada; you here! How do?’ And he nodded to her.