She tried to check her action, but it was too late. The rosebud flew from her fingers, and the Englishman’s head being directly in her line of fire, the bud, sped with hearty goodwill, hit him straight on the nose. Ann smiled—she couldn’t help it. But there came no response, his expression remaining unaltered. He regarded her unsmilingly, without a hint of recognition in his eyes.
A hot flush stained her cheeks.
“Boor!” was her mental comment, and she let in the clutch viciously as the car in front of her moved forward.
Lady Susan laughed outright.
“I wonder who that handsome, sulky-looking individual is?” she said gaily. “He fairly froze you, Ann. I imagine he thinks you did it on purpose.”
Ann’s face burned more hotly. That was precisely the conclusion she had arrived at herself, and the idea filled her with helpless rage.
“He struck me as quite an unusual combination of good looks and bad temper,” pursued Lady Susan. “Evidently he doesn’t appreciate being pelted with roses.”
A sudden gurgle of laughter broke from Ann.
“It was rather a hard little bud,” she said vindictively. “I hope it hurt him.”
Lady Susan threw a swift glance at her.