("Perfectly _hates_ him," decides he.) It seems to him a shame, and a pity too, but after all, old Curzon was hardly meant by Nature to do the paternal to a strange and distinctly spoilt child, and a beauty into the bargain.
"I don't think your guardian will have a good time," says he, bending over her confidentially, on the strength of this decision of his.
"Don't you ?" She draws back from him and looks up.

"You think I shall lead him a very bad life ?" "Well, as _he_ would regard it.

Not as I should," with a sudden, impassioned glance.
Miss Wynter puts that glance behind her, and perhaps there is something--something a little dangerous in the soft, _soft_ look she now turns upon him.
"He thinks so, too, of course ?" says she, ever so gently.

Her tone is half a question, half an assertion.

It is manifestly unfair, the whole thing.