Harry, as he heard this, felt that he was blushing. Did Lady Ongar know
of his engagement with Florence Burton? Lady Clavering knew it, and
might probably have told the tidings; but then, again, she might not
have told them. Harry at this moment wished that he knew how it was. All
that Lady Ongar said to him would come with so different a meaning
according as he did or did not know that fact. But he had no mind to
tell her of the fact himself. He declared to himself that he hoped she
knew it, as it would serve to make them both more comfortable together;
but he did not think it would do for him to bring forward the subject,
neck and heels as it were. The proper thing would be that she should
congratulate him, but this she did not do. "I certainly meant no ill,"
he said, in answer to the last words she had spoken.

"You have never meant ill to me, Harry; though you know you have abused
me dreadfully before now. I daresay you forget the hard names you have
called me. You men do forget such things."

"I remember calling you one name."

"Do not repeat it now, if you please. If I deserved it, it would shame
me; and if I did not, it should shame you."

"No; I will not repeat it."

"Does it not seem odd, Harry, that you and I should be sitting, talking
together in this way?" She was leaning now toward him, across the table,
and one hand was raised to her forehead while her eyes were fixed
intently upon his. The attitude was one which he felt to express extreme
intimacy. She would not have sat in that way, pressing back her hair