are rather uncivil to Arthur Dynecourt, don't you
think?"

"Uncivil?"

"Well--yes. That is the word for your behavior toward him, I think. Do
you know, I am afraid Sir Adrian has noticed it, and aren't you afraid
he will think it rather odd of you--rude, I mean--considering he is his
cousin?"

"Not a very favorite cousin, I fancy."

"For all that, people don't like seeing their relations slighted. I once
knew a man who used to abuse his brother all day long, but, if any one
else happened to say one disparaging word of him in his presence, it put
him in a pretty rage. And, after all, poor Arthur has done nothing to
deserve actual ill-treatment at your hands."

"I detest him. And, besides, it is a distinct impertinence to follow any
one about from place to place as he has followed me. I will not submit
to it calmly. It is a positive persecution."

"My dear, you must not blame him if he has lost his head about you. That
is rather a compliment, if anything."

"I shall always resent such compliments."

"He is certainly very gentlemanly in all other ways, and I must say
devoted to you. He is handsome too, is he not; and has quite the air of
one accustomed to command in society?"

"Has he paid you to sing his praises?" asks Florence, with a little
laugh; but her words so nearly hit the mark that Dora blushes painfully.

"I mean," she explains at last, in a rather hurried way, "that I do not
think it is good form to single out any one in a household where one is
a guest to show him pointed rudeness. You give all the others acting in
this play ample opportunities of rehearsing alone with you. It has been
remarked to me by two or three that you purposely slight and avoid Mr.
Dynecourt."

"So I do," Florence admits calmly; adding, "Your two or three have great
perspicacity."

"They even hinted to me," Dora goes on deliberately, "that your dislike
to him arose from the fact that you were piqued at his being your stage
lover, instead of--Sir Adrian!"

It costs her an effort to utter these words, but the effect produced by
them is worth the effort.

Florence, growing deadly pale, releases her hair from her cousin's
grasp, and rises quickly to her feet.

"I don't know who your gossips may be," she says slowly; "but they are
wrong--quite wrong--do you hear? My dislike to Mr. Dynecourt arises from
very different feelings. He is distasteful to me in many ways; but, as I
am undesirous that my manner should give occasi