“Well, dear—if I don’t?”
“If you don’t, you must not act so that he may fancy you do, Rose. I think there is some danger in his caring for you.”
“He cares quite as much for you as he cares for me, Graeme, and with better reason.”
“Dear, I have not thought about his caring for either of us till lately. Indeed, I never let the thought trouble me till last night, after Mr Millar came, and again, to-night. Rosie, you must not be angry with what I say.”
“Of course not. But I think you must dispose of Mr Perry, before you bring another name into your accusation; Graeme, dear, I don’t care a pin for Mr Perry, nor he for me, if that will please you. But you are not half so clever at this sort of thing as Harry. You should have began at once by accusing me of claiming admiration, and flirting, and all that. It is best to come to the point at once.”
“You said you would not be angry, Rose.”
“Did I? Well, I am not so sore about it as I was a minute ago. And what is the use of vexing one another. Don’t say any more to-night.”
Indeed, what could be said to Rose in that mood. So Graeme shut her lips, too.
In the mean time Mr Snow had opened his, in the privacy of their chamber.
“It begins to look a little like it, don’t it?” said he.