"What is his object in coming to London?" repeated Frank, unable to dismiss the one important point from his mind.
"I shouldn't wonder but it's Rosaline," said Dame Bell, shrewdly. "Blase has wanted to make up to her this many a day; but——"
"What an idiot the man must be!" struck in Frank.
"But she will not have anything to say to him, I was going to add," concluded Dame Bell. "Why should you call him an idiot, Mr. Frank?"
"He must be one, if he thinks he can persuade Rosaline to like him. See how ugly he is!"
"She might do worse, sir. I don't say Blase is handsome: he is not: but he is steady. If men and women were all chosen by their looks, Mr. Frank, a good many would go unmarried. Blase Pellet is putting by money: he will be setting up for himself, some day; and he would make her a good husband."
"Do you tell your daughter that he would?" asked Frank.
"She won't let me tell her, sir. I say to her sometimes that she seems frightened at hearing the young man's very name mentioned: just as though it would bring some evil upon her. I know what I think."
"What?" asked Frank.
"Why, that Rosaline pressed this settling in London upon me, on purpose to put a wider distance between herself and Blase. Falmouth was within reach, and he now and then came over there. I did not suspect her of this till last Sunday, Mr. Frank. When tea was over, and Blase had gone, she just sat with her hands before her, looking more dead than alive. 'After all, it seems we had better have stayed at Falmouth,' said she suddenly, as if speaking to herself: and that gave me the idea that she had come here to be farther away from him."