They hate each other.

That's the word, Mr.Lefrank--hate; bitter, bitter, bitter hate!" She clinched her little fists; she shook them vehemently, by way of adding emphasis to her last words; and then she suddenly remembered Ambrose.

"Except Ambrose," she added, opening her hand again, and laying it very earnestly on my arm.

"Don't go and misjudge Ambrose, sir.

There is no harm in poor Ambrose." The girl's innocent frankness was really irresistible.
"Should I be altogether wrong," I asked, "if I guessed that you were a little partial to Ambrose ?" An Englishwoman would have felt, or would at least have assumed, some little hesitation at replying to my question.