"I told you you stood no chance, Stanford," said the Doctor.
"What am I to have for my pains, Miss Rose?"
"Stoop down and you'll see."
He bent his head. A stinging box on the ear rewarded him, and Rose was off, flying over the glittering ice and out of reach.
"Beaten, Reginald," said Kate, as he drew near. "For shame, sir."
"Beaten, but not defeated," answered her lover; "a Stanford never yields. Rose shall be my prize yet."
Rose had whirled round the pond, and was passing. He looked at her as he spoke; but her answer was a flash of the eye and a curl of the lip as she flew on. Kate saw it, and looked after her, puzzled and thoughtful.
"Reginald," she said, when, the skating over, they were all sauntering back to the house, "what have you done to Rose?"
Reginald Stanford raised his dark eyebrows.
"Done to her! What do you imagine I have done to her?"