She lit the candle, and then I noticed that her ears were quite red. She saw the dress at the same instant and went across and fingered it.
“So you have come?” she said, talking to it as if it were a person. “You are rather pretty, I must say, but I have done very well without you.”
“Well,” said I, “you are condescending. Who tore your skirt, if one might ask?”
“Mr. Hermyre.”
“Mister now! How intimate you have become to be afraid of his name! Ha! I believe she’s shy? How often did you dance with Mister Hermyre?”
“Oh, don’t tease me, Tempe dear. As often as there was, I am afraid.”
“Afraid? Yes, you will be talked about, and he will have to marry you, there!”
“He is going to,” said Ariadne, quietly letting down her hair. I didn’t know my own Ariadne. She had turned cheeky in a single night!
I looked about for something to take her down with, and I found it.
“Did you—did you put your head on his shoulder when he had asked you, as we have always agreed you would?”