admiring your peacocks. Pray let me see you feed them tomorrow. Miss
Talbot says it is a charming sight."

"If you are on the terrace just after lunch, you will find them there,
and may feed them yourself, if you like" was the cool, civil reply.

"She looks like a peacock herself in that splendid green and gold dress,
doesn't she?" whispered Rose to Sir Jasper, with a wicked laugh.

"Faith, so she does. I wish Tavie's birds had voices like Mrs.
Snowdon's; their squalling annoys me intensely."

"I rather like it, for it is honest, and no malice or mischief is hidden
behind it. I always distrust those smooth, sweet voices; they are
insincere. I like a full, clear tone; sharp, if you please, but decided
and true."

"Well said, Octavia. I agree with you, and your own is a perfect sample
of the kind you describe." And Treherne smiled as he rolled by to join
Mrs. Snowdon, who evidently waited for him, while Octavia turned to her
brother to defend her pets.

"Are you sure? How did you discover?" said Maurice, affecting to admire
the lady's bouquet, as he paused beside her.

"I suspected it the moment I saw her this morning. She is no actress;
and dislike, distrust, and contempt were visible in her face when we
met. Till you so cleverly told me my note was lost, I fancied she was
disturbed about her brother--or you."