“And,” added Alan, “he has refused my overtures with equal stubbornness.”
“But he has accepted the splendid reward promise by Mr. Parks, has he not?” queries Mrs. French.
“That, of course; he was bound to do that,” said Mr. Ainsworth, discontentedly. “And in some way I must make him accept something from me. Leslie, my dear, can’t you manage him?”
“I fear not, Papa.” And Leslie blushed as she caught Winnie’s laughing eye fixed upon her. “I don’t think Mr. Stanhope is a man to be managed.”
“Nonsense, Leslie,” cries Winnie. “He’s afraid of a woman; he blushes when you speak to him.”
“Did he blush,” queried Leslie maliciously, “when you embraced him that night of the masquerade?”
In the midst of their laughter, Winnie was mute.
One day, some weeks after the denouement, Stanhope, sauntering down a quiet street, met Van Vernet.
“Stop, Van,” he said, as the other was about to pass; “don’t go by me in this unfriendly fashion, if only for appearance’s sake. How do you get on?”