She echoed the word in the very bitterness of a scorn that could not be repressed.
"Yes; everybody says so. The Millwards were at Marchmont Towers the other day, and they were talking of you, and praising your goodness, and speaking of your schools, and your blanket–associations, and your invalid–societies, and your mutual–help clubs, and all your plans for the parish. Why, you must work as hard as a prime–minister, Livy, by their account; you, who are only a few years older than I."
Only a few years! She started at the phrase, and bit her lip.
"I was three–and–twenty last month," she said.
"Ah, yes; to be sure. And I'm one–and–twenty. Then you're only two years older than I, Livy. But, then, you see, you're so clever, that you seem much older than you are. You'd make a fellow feel rather afraid of you, you know. Upon my word you do, Livy."
Miss Arundel did not reply to this speech of her cousin's. She was walking by his side up and down a narrow gravelled pathway, bordered by a hazel–hedge; she had gathered one of the slender twigs, and was idly stripping away the fluffy buds.
"What do you think, Livy?" cried Edward suddenly, bursting out laughing at the end of the question. "What do you think? It's my belief you've made a conquest."
"What do you mean?"
"There you go; turning upon a fellow as if you could eat him. Yes, Livy; it's no use your looking savage. You've made a conquest; and of one of the best fellows in the world, too. John Marchmont's in love with you."
Olivia Arundel's face flushed a vivid crimson to the roots of her black hair.