"I don't
suppose either that it would be very difficult to get news of your
friend--everybody seems to know him."
"But not as I did," said Rosey, with an abstracted little sigh.
Mr. Renshaw opened his brown eyes upon her. Was he mistaken? Was this
romantic girl only a little coquette playing her provincial airs on
him? "You say he and your father didn't agree? That means, I suppose,
that _you_ and he agreed?--and that was the result."
"I don't think father knew anything about it," said Rosey simply.
Mr. Renshaw rose. And this was what he had been waiting to hear!
"Perhaps," he said grimly, "you would also like news of the
photographer and Captain Bower, or did your father agree with them
better?"
"No," said Rosey quietly. She remained silent for a moment, and lifting
her lashes said, "Father always seemed to agree with _you_, and
that"--she hesitated.
"That's why _you_ don't."
"I didn't say that," said Rosey, with an incongruous increase of
coldness and color. "I only meant to say it was that which makes it
seem so hard you should go now.
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