"It seems to me you are always meeting him," growled Blase, suppressing any mention of the dance he had seen, and the kiss that succeeded it.
"Do you want to quarrel with me, Blase? It seems so by your tone."
"You met him at dusk this evening as you were going to old Sandon's—if you were going there; and you meet him now in returning," continued Blase. "It's done on purpose."
"If I did meet him each time, it was by accident. Do you suppose I put myself in the way of meeting Mr. Raynor?"
"Yes, I do. There!"
"You shall not say these things to me, Blase. Just because you chance to be a fifteenth cousin of my mother's, you think that gives you a right to lecture me."
"You are always out and about somewhere," contended Blase. "What on earth d'you want at old Sandon's for ever?"
"She is sad and lonely, Blase," was the pleading answer, given in a tone of sweet pity. "Think of her sorrow! Poor Granny Sandon!"
"Why do you call her 'Granny'?" demanded Blase, who was in a fault-finding mood. "She's no granny of yours, Rosaline."
Rosaline laughed slightly. "Indeed, I don't know why we call her 'Granny,' Blase. Every one does. Let me pass."