Marie pinched his ear and laughed:
“Getting jealous, are you, old boy? Well, you see, there are others who admire Rose beside yourself.”
“Yes, I see,” he replied, getting up carelessly, and moving to the door.
“You’re going to Rosalind?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, I will not delay speaking to her any longer,” he replied, going out as he spoke, and getting a glass of wine to steady himself, for he owned to himself he was a little bit nervous, thinking uneasily.
“She’ll make no end of a scene, of course—maybe call me a cur and all that. The sooner it’s over, the better.”
Fortified with several glasses of wine, he wended his way to the library.
Rosalind was there, sure enough, exquisitely gowned in some soft green fabric, with loads of lace trimming, that was very becoming to her blond type and she reclined rather pensively in a large leather chair.
CHAPTER XX.
FATE WILLED OTHERWISE.
“Ah, Charley, it is you. I am so glad, for you were just now in my thoughts!” cried Rosalind, beaming up at him with a tender smile.