'None,' said she.
Such pointed insolence disposed Rosamund to an irritable antagonism, without reminding her that she had given some cause for it.
Renee said to her presently: 'He saved my brother's life'; the apropos being as little perceptible as before.
Her voice dropped to her sweetest deep tones, and there was a supplicating beam in her eyes, unintelligible to the direct Englishwoman, except under the heading of a power of witchery fearful to think of in one so young, and loved by Nevil.
The look was turned upon her, not upon her hero, and Rosamund thought, 'Does she want to entangle me as well?'
It was, in truth, a look of entreaty from woman to woman, signifying need of womanly help. Renee would have made a confidante of her, if she had not known her t