"They are most welcome," cried Rose, impatiently. "Do not let us bother about them any more." There was an angry colour in her cheek, and fire in her eye, and the sound of her voice grated harshly. Lettice began to wonder if her story had been judicious, or well-timed. She was Rose's stanch friend and partisan, willing to do or think whatever Rose might like best. It was in espousing Rose's side that she felt hostile to Gilbert; but she began to doubt, now, if what she had been telling appeared to Rose as droll as to herself. And yet every one said that Rose had such a sense of humour! There was silence between the friends. They no longer sauntered, but stepped out quickly, Rose hurrying the pace with strides of varying length, till Lettice had difficulty in keeping up with her. Each fibre of her frame was strung into fierce activity. She even snatched the fan, hanging idly from her waist, as if its dangling were a provocation. She opened and closed it rudely once or twice, till some of the slender ribs gave way and got entangled; then, with an impatient gesture, caught it by both ends and broke the thing across, and flung it from her. And then she stopped, with the empty chain between her fingers, and turned to her companion with a short, dry laugh. "You will say I am in one of my tempers, Lettie, dear. You are good to bear with me.... You are out of breath, too. Come, let's walk slower. I have something to tell you." "Something nice, Rose? What is it, dearest?" "Pray, not that tender sympathetic tone, Lettice, 'an you love me,' as they say in the theatre, or you will drive me wild. What is there to condole about?... Nothing that I can see. If people who are strangers to me--whom I have said a hundred times I will have none of--want to marry, what is it to me?" "Nothing, dear, nothing," Lettice answered soothingly. "Nothing whatever to you." "It is less than nothing; for I am going to be married myself--at least I am engaged. Wish me joy, dear. You are the first to be told." "You are? I knew you would be, from the first. You liked him the first day you saw him. Indeed I wish you happiness. I am quite sure you will be happy, dear." And they embraced; or Lettice did, at least. Rose submitted rather than joined in the caress, and there was a look of deep self-pity in her face, as if she doubted about the happiness which her friend foretold. Her eyes moistened, and then, with a start which was half a sob, she recovered herself, and put her arm through her friend's, and turned homewards. "And how did it happen, dear? Tell me all about it." "The usual way, dear; though people do say these things are never done twice alike. You have some experience, yourself, about it, I fancy; though you are so good to the poor fellows, that you never betray them, or divulge their disappointment."