- dially. His armless sleeve was pinned up to his
coat front.
"God bless my soul," the Colonel cried. "Am I getting old? Here's little Miles Pembroke almost a man."
"Almost—papa—you mean quite a man. It is a dreadful reflection to me that I am older than Miles," said Olivia, smiling. Then they sat about the fire, and Olivia, putting her fan down in her lap, looked French Pembroke full in the face and said, "You know, perhaps, that Madame Koller and Mr. Ahlberg dine here to-night?"
"Yes," answered Pembroke, with all the coolness of conscious innocence—or brazen assurance of careless wickedness, Olivia could not tell which.
"You saw a good deal of them abroad, didn't you?" was her next question.
"Yes," again replied Pembroke.
"Olivia, my dear," said her father, who very much enjoyed this little episode, "you women will never learn that you can't find anything out by asking questions; and Pembroke, my boy, remember that women never believe you except when you are lying to them. Let him alone, Olivia, and he will tell you the whole story, I'll warrant."
Olivia's training had made her something of a stoic under Colonel Berkeley's remarks, but at this a deep red dyed her clear pale face. She was the best of daughters, but she could at that moment have cheerfully inflicted condign punishment on
