I can depend on you to consider my
feelings."
The accent, ever so slight, upon the "you" aroused Rose's attention.
"Why, you are not going?" she exclaimed, coming towards him.
"Such is my charitable intention," he replied, smiling with sad eyes.
"I was only waiting for you to finish your game before bringing Mr.
Galton to the fire to talk politics with you."
"That is a warm topic, and a warm place."
"Perhaps Mr. Dunlop fears that we shall quarrel on the subject. You
know we are on different sides, Miss Macleod."
"We shall hardly come to blows, I think," returned Allan, with the
look of bright good-fellowship which made him a favourite with both
political parties.
"The idea of your quarrelling with anybody!" said Rose, as she
accompanied him to the door.
"I may have a very serious disagreement with him some time," replied
her jealous though unacknowledged lover, "but it will not be about
politics."
He ran hastily down the steps, unconsciously brushing against
Commodore Macleod, who favoured him with a bow of about the same
temperature as the weather. Muttering a hurried excuse, he went on
into the cold gloom of the early winter twilight, shivering slightly,
not from the chill without, but from the deadlier chill within.
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