Miss Oleander was a pet aversion of his own, and this bond of union drew him and her saucy little antagonist together at once.
"Rather a sharp set-to, Miss Dane," the artist remarked, in his lazy voice.

"Miss Oleander is a clever woman, but she is matched at last.
I wonder why it is?
You two ought to be good friends." He glanced significantly at Mr.Walraven, devoting himself to Miss Oleander, and Mollie gave her white shoulders a little shrug.
"If we ought, we never will be.

Coming events cast their shadows before, and I know I shall detest a guardianess.

Who is that brigandish-looking gentleman over there, Mr.Ingelow?
He has been staring at me steadily for the last ten minutes." "Lost in speechless admiration, no doubt.

That gentleman is the celebrated Doctor Oleander, own cousin to the fair Blanche." The gentleman in question certainly was staring, but his staring was interrupted at this moment by a general uprising and retreat to the drawing-room.