"I like Jan very much," said she resolutely, in her championship. "There's nobody I like so well as Jan, Lady Verner."
Lady Verner made a slight movement with her shoulders. It was almost as much as to say that Lucy was growing as hopelessly incorrigible as Jan. Lionel turned to Lucy.
"Nobody you like so well as Jan, did you say?"
Poor Lucy! If the look of Lionel, just before, had brought the hot blush to her cheek, that blush was nothing compared to the glowing crimson which mantled there now. She had not been thinking of one sort of liking when she so spoke of Jan: the words had come forth in the honest simplicity of her heart.
Did Lionel read the signs aright, as her eyes fell before his? Very probably. A smile stole over his lips.
"I do like Jan very much," stammered Lucy, essaying to mend the matter. "I may like him, I suppose? There's no harm in it."
"Oh! no harm, certainly," spoke Lady Verner, with a spice of irony. "I never thought Jan could be a favourite before. Not being fastidiously polished yourself, Lucy—forgive my saying it—you entertain, I conclude, a fellow feeling for Jan."
Lucy—for Jan's sake—would not be beaten.
"Don't you think it is better to be like Jan, Lady Verner, than—than—like Dr. West, for instance?"
"In what way?" returned Lady Verner.