"But that girl is handsome. How she looked into Rose's face, the amazing little devil!—she is plucky."
Then he caught himself up abruptly; it was no use to talk nonsense to himself. The point was how to keep these two apart and how short Mrs. Delaport Green's visit might be made.
"Unluckily Monday is a Bank holiday, but they shall not be asked to stay one hour after the 10.30 train on Tuesday if I have to take them away myself," he murmured. Meanwhile, it was a beautiful evening; there was a wonderful view, and Rose was here, and, for the moment, alone with him. She ran her fingers into the fair hair that was falling over her forehead, and pushed it back and her hat with it, so that the fresh spring air "may get right into my brain," she said, "and turn out London blacks."
"The blacks don't penetrate in your case," said Edmund.
"I'm afraid they do," she murmured, "but now I won't think of them. Easter Eve and this place are enough to banish worries."
"Our hostess contrives to have some worries here."
"Ah! dear Mary, I know; she can't help it; she has always been so very prosperous."
"Oh, it's prosperity, is it?" asked Edmund. He had turned from the view to look more directly at Rose.
"Yes, I know it does not have that effect on you, because you have a happier temperament."
"But am I so very prosperous?" The tone was sad and slightly sarcastic.