"So I've heard—from you. Tell me, James, do you think this little Nevers girl dislikes me?"
"Do you want her to?"
"No. You're a very clever young one, aren't you? Really quite an expert! Do you know, I don't think that girl would care for what I might have to offer her. There's more to her than to most people."
"How do you know? She scarcely spoke a word."
The old lady laughed scornfully:
"I know people by what they don't say. That's why I know you so much better than you think I do—you and Elena Clydesdale. And I don't think you're much good, James—or some of your married friends, either."
She settled down among the robes, with a bright, impertinent glance at him. He shrugged, standing bareheaded by the mud-guard, a lithe, handsome young fellow. "—A Desboro all over," she thought, with a mental sniff of admiration.
"Are you going to speak to Miss Nevers?" she asked, abruptly.
"About what!"