The girl turned quickly, and her face flushed. “How absurd,” she said, indignantly, and her manner softened.
“Thank you,” said Fraser. “If you don’t believe it, I don’t care what anybody else thinks.”
Miss Tyrell, looking straight in front of her, stole a glance at this easily satisfied young man from the corner of her eye. “I should never expect to hear of you doing anything wicked,” she said. Fraser thanked her again, warmly. “Or venturesome,” added Miss Tyrell, thoughtfully. “You’re not the kind.”
They walked on in silence; indignant silence on the part of the ex-mate.
“Then you are out of a berth?” said Poppy, not unkindly.
Fraser shook his head and explained. “And I told my father about you,” he added, nervously. “He knew Flower very well, and he told me to say that he would be very pleased and proud if you would come down and stay with him at Bittlesea for a time.”
“No, thank you,” said Miss Tyrell.
“The air would do you good,” persisted Fraser; “you could come down by train or come down with me on the Swallow next week.”
Miss Tyrell repeated her refusal. “I must stay in London and get something else to do,” she said, quietly.
“What do you think of doing?” enquired Fraser.