Dave Darrin looked ahead at the foppish, rather good-looking, tall and
slender young man of some twenty-six years.

"I hope he isn't going to be troublesome," murmured Dave. "I don't want
to have to fight with him--at least, not when you're along with me."

As they neared Ardmore, Dave continued to look at the young man quietly,
steadily, frankly. Ardmore seemed trying to ignore the gaze, and looked,
instead, at Belle.

Just as the young couple reached him, Ardmore raised his hat, at the same
time stepping forward so that he blocked Belle's progress.

"Good afternoon, Miss Meade," was Ardmore's greeting. "I was on my way to
your house when I saw you. Mother has some tickets for a concert at the
Sorosis rooms, and is unable to use them this afternoon. So I have come
to ask you if you will not honor me with your company at the concert?"

"Thank you, no," Belle answered coldly. "And I would also like to make it
plain, Mr. Ardmore, since you make it necessary, that I do not wish your
company at any time or place. I am sorry to have to speak so plainly."

A deep flush dyed the cheeks of the fop. But he was not so easily
discouraged.

"I had intended to call this evening, Miss Meade. I am to have a box at
the theatre."

"You may call anywhere you wish," Belle retorted, her eyes flashing,
"provided it is not at my home."