"She has been asking me if you were very handsome and I told her to wait and see," observed Selina, with a laugh, and somehow it grated on my ears. He made no reply in words, but his brow contracted a little. I noticed one thing—that he had very pretty teeth, white and even.
"How is it you are home before the others?" she resumed. "And where are they lingering? Charlotte Delves says the dinner is spoiling."
"They cannot be far behind," was Mr. Edwin Barley's answer. "I'll go and dress."
As he went out of the room we heard sounds of voices and laughter. Selina opened the window, and I stood by her. The night had grown clearer, the moon was bright. Three gentlemen, dressed something like Mr. Edwin Barley, were approaching the house with game, guns, and dogs.
"Can you see them by this light, Anne?"
"I can see that two are young, and one looks old. He has grey hair."
"Not very old, not more than fifty—but he is so stout. It is the parson, Mr. Martin."
"Do parsons go out shooting, Selina?"
"Only when they can get the chance," she laughed. "That young one is Philip King, a ward of Mr. Edwin Barley's. He and I are not friends at all, and I do what I can to vex him. He is terribly ill-tempered."
"Is he!"