Riatt did not know if this slightly contemptuous observation were meant
to apply to him or to Miss Lane; he hoped in his heart that Dorothy would
refuse the invitation. But he under-estimated Christine's powers. No one
could have been more persuasive, more meltingly sweet, and compellingly
cordial than she was, and it was soon arranged that he was to bring
Dorothy to dine that evening.

When it was over, and he was back again in his own seat, he could see, by
glancing at Christine that she was engaged in a long humorous account of
the incident, for her own table; and he could tell, even from that
distance, when he was supposed to be speaking, when Dorothy, and when
Christine was repeating her own words. Meanwhile Dorothy was saying:

"How charming and simple she is, Max. You always hear of these people as
being so artificial and elaborate."

"Oh, they're direct enough," returned Riatt bitterly.

The bitterness was so apparent that Dorothy could not ignore it. She
looked up at him for an instant and then she said seriously: "I believe I
know what the trouble with you is, Max. You can't believe that she loves
you for yourself. You're haunted by the dread that what you have has
something to do with it. Isn't that it?"

Max now made use of the well-known counter question as an escape from a
tight place.

"And what is your judgment on that point, Dolly?"

"She loves you," said Miss Lane, with conviction, and a moment afterward