“Your mother is too harsh a critic,” he commented. “I detect no irritability on your part, only——” he paused thoughtfully.
“Yes?” she prompted, looking away from him.
“An adorable reserve,” ardently. “Why do you not let me see more of you?”
“I have already explained the reason, Chichester.”
“Your social duties?” He shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “Bah! why consider such empty trifles.”
“They are not trifles, but a treadmill,” she retorted warmly. “But, Chichester, I don’t believe mother and Marjorie would approve of my meeting you so often alone, and I hate to do anything underhand.”
“You are the soul of honor.” His look caressed her, and she shivered involuntarily. “Then why not let me call every day at your house?”
“Duncan doesn’t like you,” she admitted faintly. “And he has prejudiced mother——” in her desire to avoid Barnard’s glance, she missed seeing the tawney gleam which for a second marred the beauty of his heavily lashed dark eyes.
“I can guess the reason for your brother’s dislike,” he admitted grimly. “Perhaps I can remove the cause. His interest in Miss Langdon appears mutual. Hadn’t you better warn your mother to watch those two?”
“What do you mean?” She raised startled eyes to his.