There was a bright red spot flaming on each cheek, and a dangerous sparkle in her eyes, which assured Rupert the air was not yet clear, and that the storm might come round again at any moment.
But he knew the sooner they commenced their quarrel the more speedily it would be over, and so plunged into the matter at once.
"Dolly, what have you been doing to Mr. Dean? He has gone off looking as black as a thunder-cloud."
"I have been giving him a piece of my mind," she answered without looking up, and her pen flew more rapidly over the paper.
"Your explanation is not lady-like, but it is explicit," remarked Rupert, "I am afraid you will soon not have any mind left if you are so generous in disposing of it."
"If my mind proves of no more use to me in the future than it has in the past, the sooner I dispose of it all the better," was the reply.
"Do you think you are wise in commencing your present campaign by quarrelling with everybody?" he inquired.
"Yes, if every one is like Mr. Dean and—and other people."
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning you, if you choose to take the cap and wear it."