away; for, judging by an intangible something in Milly's face just now, I have a shrewd suspicion that not only is there a ball, but that the day is fixed—so here goes.
"Alice, Milly, I won't deny it. I have got a lover, and his name is Tempest, and he lives at Silverbridge, and I don't mean to marry him if I can possibly help it; and I have told him so, and he is very good-looking, and—and that's all!" Here I stop, out of breath.
"Tempest!" says Milly; "I am sure I heard Fane talking about some Tempests the other day. Are they not very rich people?"
"I believe so!"
"And why on earth don't you marry him?" asks Alice, warmly. "You will see nobody in Silverbridge; and as to living at home with papa——— By the way, what does he say to your having a lover?"
"He does not know it, or at least he never says anything."
"Although it is all going on under his very nose!" says Milly. "Well, one of these days he will open his eyes very wide and be furious, and you will be sent to bed for a week."
"I expect he will make a great fuss," I say cheerfully. "I only hope he will lock me up altogether, for then George Tempest will not be able to get at me."
"Nell," says Alice, with a serious disbelief in her voice, "have you kept back anything?"
"What, about Mr. Tempest?"
"Of course. Now you said he was good-looking—is he short?"
"He is over six feet."
"And he has not a hump?"
"No."
"Does he talk through his nose?"
