“I think your heart is as hard as the rocks in Flodden Field,” he exclaimed.
“Being pleasant hasn’t anything to do with your heart,” was her calm reply.
“Hasn’t it? Ye think I can be as pleasant as I am, and still have a hard, black heart?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“So you don’t like me?” he persisted.
“Yes, rather. But I’m a little tired of heroes just now,” was her reply.
“I’m afraid I don’t qualify,” he said curtly, “but as a possible nuisance I’ll take mesilf off.”
He rose. He stopped behind her chair and leaned over her to say:
“That rebuff, ye spoke of, in France. After all, it was an amateur affair, as rebuffs go.”
With which he marched off down the deck, his head very high in the air. Miss Watts sat down beside Isabelle with a quick glance at her.