Langham looked at her, at the daring harmony of color made by the reddish gold of her hair, the warm whiteness of her skin, and the brown-pink tints of her dress, at the crystals playing the part of diamonds on her beautiful neck, and remembered Robert’s remarks to him. The same irony mingled with the same bitterness returned to him, and the elder brother’s attitude became once more temporarily difficult. ‘Who is your neighbor?’ he inquired of her presently. ‘Lady Charlotte’s husband,’ she answered mischievously, under her breath. ‘One needn’t know much more about him, I imagine!’ ‘And that man opposite?’ ‘Robert’s pet aversion,’ she said calmly, without a change of countenance, so that Mr. Longstaffe opposite, who was studying her as he always studied pretty young women, stared at her through her remark in sublime ignorance of its bearing. ‘And your sister’s neighbor?’ ‘I can’t hit him off in a sentence, he’s too good!’ said Rose laughing; ‘all I can say is that Mrs. Bickerton has too many children, and the children have too many ailments for her ever to dine out.’ ‘That will do; I see the existence,’ said Langham with a shrug. ‘But he has the look of an apostle, though a rather hunted one. Probably nobody here, except Robert, is fit to tie his shoes.’ The Squire could hardly be called _empressé_,’ said Rose, after a second, with a curl of her red lips. Mr. Wynnstay was still safely engaged with Mrs. Darcy, and there was a buzz of talk largely sustained by Lady Charlotte. ‘No,’ Langham admitted; ‘the manners I thought were not quite equal to the house.’ ‘What possible reason could he have for treating Robert with those airs?’ said Rose indignantly, ready enough, in girl fashion, to defend her belongings against the outer world. ‘He ought to be only too glad to have the opportunity of knowing him and making friends with him.’ ‘You are a sister worth having;’ and Langham smiled at her as she leant back in her chair, her white arms and wrists lying on her lap, and her slightly flushed face turned toward him. They had been on these pleasant terms of _camaraderie_ all day, and the intimacy between them had been still making strides. ‘Do you imagine I don’t appreciate Robert because I make bad jokes about the choir and the clothing club?’ she asked him, with a little quick repentance passing like a shadow through her eyes. ‘I always feel I play an odious part here. I can’t like it--I can’t--their life. I should hate it! And yet--’ She sighed remorsefully and Langham, who five minutes before could have wished her to be always smiling, could now have almost asked to fix her as she was: the eyes veiled, the soft lips relaxed in this passing instant of gravity.