"Oh, Mr. Scarlett, it's charming!"
"It's very kind of you to say so," he replied, pocketing his sonnet and going towards the piano, still with a slightly troubled expression. "Shall we try that duet now?"
Molly's thoughts were very easily diverted from poetry. She set up the music; but just as she was about to strike the first note, an idea occurred to her, and spinning half round on the stool—
"Amy," she said, "do you call that Mr. Harding so very good-looking?"
Amy was taken by surprise.
"I? oh no!" she answered.
"There!" Molly exclaimed, looking up at Scarlett.
"Why, what do you mean?" Miss Wilton asked. "Somehow I can't fancy he'll live. Whenever I look at that man's face I think of death."
"What a queer idea!" said the younger sister reflectively. "Well, he certainly doesn't look strong, and I should think that Robinson boy would be enough to worry anybody into an early grave."
Adrian, standing by the piano, raised his eyes to the old mirror, as if he half expected to see the pale face with its watchful eyes below the gleaming surface of the glass. But it reflected only a vague confusion of curtain and wall-paper, and the feathery foliage of a palm.