"Who?" said Rose, carelessly, as if her heart was not beating time to the word. "Reginald?"
"Yes; he is the handsomest man I ever saw."
Rose laughed—a rather forced laugh, though.
"Don't fall in love with my handsome brother-in-law, Em. Kate won't like it."
"They are to be married next June, are they not?" asked Emily, not noticing the insinuation, save by a slight colour, which the twilight hid.
"So they say."
"They will be a splendid-looking pair. George and all the gentlemen say that she is the only really beautiful woman they ever saw."
"Tastes differ," said Rose with a shrug. "I don't think so. She is too pale, and proud, and cold, and too far up in the clouds altogether. She ought to go and be a nun; she would make a splendid lady-abbess."
"She will make a splendid Mrs. Stanford."
"Who?" said Mr. Stanford himself, sauntering in. "You, Miss Howard?"