"She challenged me to a confession, as though I owe any confession to a child!"
"And you scolded her! You men of letters lose your tempers as badly as tipplers at an inn. Poor Nance; you scorched her with that infernal tongue of yours."
Durrell gave him a sneering look.
"You need not pity the girl. She seems to hate the very sound of your name."
"Come, come, that is promising."
"You had better hold away from her."
De Rothan laughed.
"Mr. Benham, too, suspects us. I have decided how to deal with that gentleman. But sweet Nance hates me! That is good news."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Do you see your daughter, Durrell, as one of the beauties of Napoleon's court? It is not impossible, sir, not impossible. Where hate is, there love shall be gathered in."