Chapter 20 - Page 2

mind Lady Theobald," she added, as a cheerful afterthought. "I am
not fond enough of her to care about what she says."

"Are you fond of any one?" Barold inquired, speaking with a languid air,
but at the same time glancing at her with some slight interest from under
his eyelids.

"Lucia says I am," she returned, with the calmness of a young person who
wished to regard the matter from an unembarrassed point of view. "Lucia
says I am affectionate."

"Ah!" deliberately. "Are you?"

She turned, and looked at him serenely.

"Should _you_ think so?" she asked.

This was making such a personal matter of the question, that he did not
exactly enjoy it. It was certainly not "good form" to pull a man up in
such cool style.

"Really," he replied, "I--ah--have had no opportunity of judging."

He had not the slightest intention of being amusing, but to his infinite
disgust he discovered as soon as he spoke that she was amused. She
laughed outright, and evidently only checked herself because he looked so
furious. In consideration for his feelings she assumed an air of mild but
preternatural seriousness.

"No," she remarked, "that is true: you haven't, of course."

He was silent. He did not enjoy being amusing at all, and he made no
pretence of appearing to submit to the indignity calmly.

She bent forward a little.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "you are mad again--I mean, you are vexed. I am
always vexing you."

There was a hint of appeal in her voice, which rather pleased him; but he
had no intention of relenting at once.

"I confess I am at a loss to know why you laughed," he said.

"Are you," she asked, "really?" letting her eyes rest upon him anxiously
for a moment. Then she actually gave vent to a little sigh. "We look at
things so differently, that's it," she said.

"I suppose it is," he responded, still chillingly.

In spite of this, she suddenly assumed a comparatively cheerful aspect. A
happy thought occurred to her.

"Lucia would beg your pardon," she said. "I am learning good manners from
Lucia. Suppose I beg your pardon."

"It is quite unnecessary," he replied.

"Lucia wouldn't think so," she said. "And why shouldn't I be as
well-behaved as Lucia? I beg your pardon."

He felt rather absurd, and yet somewhat mollified. She had a way of
looking at him, sometimes, when she had been unpleasant, which rather
soothed him. In fact, he had found of late, a little to his private
annoyance,