"People? What people?" said Teresa, disdainfully.
"Well, for example, Miss Melton stopped in here at six o'clock for tea, and said she had seen you coming down through the wood, with your hands full of flowers, your hat hanging on your back, singing, she said, like a dryad, or something of that sort. You can hear her saying it."
"What do I care what a sharp old maid says? What do I care about any of these people? They've nothing to do but gossip. I don't care one single"
"I know you don't—but perhaps you Well, I've told you, anyway, what's being said."
"You have. Let us drop the topic."
Teresa serenely gave a last touch to her hair, and went downstairs, the colour in her cheeks slightly heightened.
She had been quite aware, before this, that Nina disapproved her walks with Crayven. Ernesto, too, had been for the first time sulky and cool to her. He had spent the last week at Montreux, but now he was back, and lie met her in the drawing-room with a smiling compliment to her appearance.
"You look radiant—your long country walks do agree with you," he remarked, kissing the tips of her fingers in his most feline manner.
"Why are you trying to be disagreeable?"
