"No."
"Or wear large plaid suits?"
"No."
"Is he ignorant? Not that that signifies, for nowadays only the middle classes are well-informed; well-born people are nearly always doubtful as to their spelling."
"No," I say again.
"Is there insanity in the family?" asks Milly.
"No! No! No!?" I say, jumping up and going off into immoderate laughter. "He is nice, charming, desirable in every way; but—is it so very hard to understand?—I can't marry him, for I do not love him!"
"Then you must be in love with somebody else!" says Alice, scanning with broad-eyed candour my disturbed face, "though where you can have seen him I'm sure it is difficult to imagine."
"I am not in love!" I say, indignantly; "I never was in love! I would not do anything so silly, so—so ridiculous. If I had had any fancy that way I should have made a donkey of myself at Silverbridge long ago."
"And how long have you been sure that you do not care about Mr. Tempest? Since the day before yesterday?" asks Milly, saucy persistence in her splendid eyes.
"I have known it all along," I say, steadily. "What should the day before yesterday have to do with it?"
"Nothing," says Milly, with a baffling glance at Alice. However, I will not notice their looks.
"And now for the ball," I say, fanning my heated countenance with the tail of my pannier. "Are you really going to have one?"
"On the 17th. Shall I send Mr. Tempest an invitation?"
"How delightful!" I say, drawing a deep breath. "I have never been to a dance in my life, you know, and———"
