"Do you know her well?" he said, slightly colouring.
"Oh, very intimately—she is a great friend of mine."
"You know all her secrets then?"
"Well, I dare say I do," she replied, smiling importantly; for, to confess that she had a friend, and did not know all her secrets, seemed a derogation from her own dignity; "but, I fear I shall not know many more, for we have parted in anger."
"Indeed! can that be true—you in anger."
"Yes, yes," said Lucy, looking archly at him; "and what do you think it could be about?"
"I have, indeed, no means of guessing," he replied, with an interest which Lucy attributed rather to herself than her subject.
"About yourself, it was then?" said she, looking slightly aside.
"Impossible!" he exclaimed, delightedly; "have you then been speaking of me?—and what did she say of me?"
"Nothing you would, perhaps, like to hear," she said, with the same archness as before.