"Pretty?" echoed the young man.

He shot a keen glance at Ellen Dix from under half-closed lids. The
girl's big, black eyes were fixed full upon him; she was leaning
forward, a suggestion of timid defiance in the poise of her head.

"Well, that depends," he said slowly. "No, I don't think she's
_pretty_."

Ellen burst into a sudden trill of laughter.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "I supposed all the men--"

"But I do think she's beautiful," he finished calmly. "There's a
difference, you know."

Ellen Dix tossed her head.

"Oh, is there?" she said airily. "Well, I don't even think she's
pretty; do you, Fan?--with all that light hair, drawn back plain from
her forehead, and those big, solemn eyes. But I guess she _thinks_
she's pretty, all right."

"She doesn't think anything about herself," said Jim doggedly. "She
isn't that kind of a girl."

Ellen Dix bit a vexed exclamation short.

"I don't believe any of us know her very well," she said, after a
pause. "You know what a gossip Lois Daggett is? Well, I met her and