"Yes; she is pleasant to look at."
"And to talk to."
"She never talks."
"And Gerard? He is not particularly pleasant to look at, certainly——"
"Not particularly," she assents; feeling a hot glow steal all over her, as at an insult to herself.
"But when he is not in one of his sulks, as he was the other day—do you remember?—he is not a bad fellow, as fellows go."
"Isn't he?"
He looks at her with surprise. "Why, surely, living in the same house with him, you ought to know him, at least as well as I do?"
"I never speak to him, and he never speaks to me," she answers, shortly.
Linley bursts out laughing. "Good heavens! what a horrible picture you draw! You remind one of Mr. Watts's pretty little hymn—