avenue, pacing it on the arm of Mr. Raynor. Back she went, and reported it to Lydia. And now Lydia was reproaching her.
"To suffer yourself to meet that man clandestinely after night has fallen!" reiterated Lydia. "And to stay out with him!—and to take his arm! You disgraceful girl! And when, all the while, he does not care one jot for you! He loves some one else."
Daisy had received the tirade on herself in silence, but she fired up at this. "You have no right to say that, Lydia," she cried. "Whether he loves me, or not, I shall not say; but, at any rate, he does not love any one else."
"Yes, he does," affirmed Lydia.
"He does not," fired Daisy. "If he does, who is it?"
"No one in his own station—more shame to him! It is that girl they call so beautiful—who lost her father. Rose—Rose—what's the name?—Rosaline Bell. Frank Raynor loves her with his whole heart and soul."