"I—I was rude to you just now," she stammered. "I beg your pardon for it. I—I really don't know why I was so. I don't dislike you, indeed, and I think you are very nice. I have enjoyed the chair and the books, and I have been sorry ever since that day when I came down to the steamer and did not wait for you. But—somehow—it was very hard to tell you so."
She had spoken every word with a delightful shyness, and after a pause, she went on, with a catch in her breath:
"As for your being poor, I never thought of that—never. I think poor men are the nicest—always. They are handsomer than the rich ones. I—"
She caught her breath with a gasp. He had turned around quickly and caught her hand.
"Miss West—" he was beginning to say, when a sudden step sounded beside them.
Lieutenant De Vere had come up to them. There was a sudden glitter in his brown eyes—a jealous gleam.
"I beg your pardon. Are you and Miss West rehearsing for private theatricals?" he asked, with a slight sarcastic inflection.
Lancaster looked intensely annoyed; Leonora only laughed.
"Yes," she said. "Do you not think that I should make a good actress, Lieutenant De Vere?"
"Yes," he replied, "and Lancaster would make a good actor. 'One man in his time plays many parts.'"