"If you think that the reason why I wish you not to flirt is that I want a monopoly of that occupation, you are mistaken," he says, gravely; "it is an art that I have not either the will or the power to practise." "Really?" "Really." "Seriously?" "Seriously. Confess that, after that admission, your opinion of me is considerably lowered." No answer but a smile. "Confess that you feel for me as sovereign a contempt as the ladies of the last century felt for a man that never got drunk." "I feel," she says, averting her head and speaking under an impulse that kindles her cheeks and makes her voice falter--"I feel a surprise that the words you say and the words you are reported to say do _not_ tally better together." "What am I reported to say?" (a little impatiently.) "A _réchauffé_ of one's own stale speeches is not an appetising dish, but may be wholesome as an exhortation to consistency." "A person--I was told--" begins Esther, floundering in confusion among different forms of speech--"I was told--by a person that ought to have known--that you had spoken in a slighting, disparaging way of--of--of--a person." "Who told you so?" (breathlessly.) "That can be of no consequence." "Without your telling me I know," he says, his face growing hot with the red of indignant anger, not guilt. "God forgive her for such a lie!" "It was not true, then?" she asks, eagerly, lifting her eyes, brimful of joyful relief, to his. "Such an accusation is not worth rebutting," he answers, contemptuously. "Is a man likely to speak slightingly of----" He stops abruptly. ("Not yet! not yet! it is impossible that she can like me yet. Am I an Antinous, to be loved as soon as seen? Let me be patient--be patient!") CHAPTER XIV. "I am afraid that their names will not convey much idea to your minds, as you do not know our part of the world, but you may have met some of them in London: Sir Charles and Lady Bolton; Mr. and Mrs. Tredegar; Mr., Mrs., and Miss Annesley; the Misses Denzil (by-the-by, you saw them at the bazaar yesterday); and two or three stray men." This remark is addressed by Miss Blessington to her two friends on the afternoon following the bazaar, and contains a list of the guests expected at dinner at Felton that evening. "So there's to be a party?" says Esther, from a window recess, where, hidden by a drooped curtain, she has been lying _perdue_ up to the present moment, deeply buried in the unwonted luxury of a French novel. Constance gives a little start. "I did not know that you were there! Yes; there are a few people coming to dine!" "Don't you like parties?" asks Miss De Grey, half turning round her head, and a coquettish little lace morning cap, in the direction whence Esther's voice proceeds. "I--I--think so; I hardly know." "I suppose that you have only just left the schoolroom?" Esther laughs. "I can hardly be said to have left it, for I was never in it."