"Hard on you!" she said, in low, mournful tones--and sighed bitterly.
Magdalen drew back a little, and mechanically dusted the parasol with the end of her garden cloak.
"Yes!" she resumed, doggedly.

"Hard on me and hard on Frank." "Frank!" repeated Norah, advancing on her sister and turning pale as suddenly as she had turned red.

"Do you talk of yourself and Frank as if your interests were One already?
Magdalen! if I hurt _you_, do I hurt _him_?
Is he so near and so dear to you as that ?" Magdalen drew further and further back.

A twig from a tree near caught her cloak; she turned petulantly, broke it off, and threw it on the ground.

"What right have you to question me ?" she broke out on a sudden.
"Whether I like Frank, or whether I don't, what interest is it of yours ?" As she said the words, she abruptly stepped forward to pass her sister and return to the house.
Norah, turning paler and paler, barred the way to her.