'You know, Hazel,' she began again, 'your dress is always so beautiful.'
'Well? If my guardians ever find it out, they never object.'
'But you know, Hazel! you know!' exclaimed Primrose in some distress. 'How shall I speak to you? Your guardians would not meddle, I suppose, either of them; but don't you think, now, that Dane will want you to do a little as he does? Do you think he will like you to dress so expensively? and you know you do, Hazel. And he gave up his cigars long ago.'
If Prim could have known all the minute thorns she was sticking into her friend! Hazel was vexed enough to laugh, or to cry, or to do anything, almost.
'I am glad he has,'she said, 'but really I have nothing answering to cigars in all my list of expenses.'
'O Hazel! don't you think so?'
'No. I suppose you like them better than I do.'
'What, cigars?'
'Yes. I should think any man would be thankful to get rid of them.
Mr. Falkirk never smokes.'
'I don't like them. But men do. And Dane always smoked such delicious cigarsI used to catch the sweet scent of them often in summer time, when windows were open, and then I knew he was lingering about somewhere near; in the garden or the meadow.' Prim gave the least little unconscious sigh as she spoke. Hazel glanced at her, and her own face grew very thoughtful. The subject of dress was left quite in the distance.