"No, I don't suppose you did. And, besides that, I expect the fact is, that Mrs. Bede never invited you. She is a beauty!"
"Roland!"
"You may go on at me till tomorrow if you like, Annabel; I shall say it. She's a tyrannical, mean-spirited, heartless image; and I shall be telling her so some day to her face. You should hear what Clare Joliffe says of her selfishness."
In the midst of her vexation, Miss Channing could not forbear a smile. Roland was never more serious in his life.
"And I want to know what it was she had been doing today, to put you into that grief."
Annabel coloured almost to tears. It was a home question, and brought back all the troubles connected with her position in the house. Whether Mrs. Bede Greatorex had taken a dislike to her, or whether that lady's temper was alone in fault, Miss Channing did not know; but a great deal of petty annoyance was heaped upon her almost daily, sometimes bordering upon cruel insult. Roland, however, was much mistaken if he thought she would admit anything of the kind to him.
"I see what it is; you are too generous to say it's true," he observed, after vainly endeavouring to get some satisfactory answer. "You are too good for this house, Annabel, and I only wish I could take you out of it."
"Oh, thank you," she said with a quiet smile, not in the least suspecting his meaning.
"And into one of my own."
"One of your own?"