"I suppose I shall have to confess that you have inspired my curiosity,
Mr. Vane," she said.

Austen's face was sunburned, but it flushed a more vivid red under the
tan. It is needless to pretend that a man of his appearance and qualities
had reached the age of thirty-two without having listened to feminine
comments of which he was the exclusive subject. In this remark of
Victoria's, or rather in the manner in which she made it, he recognized a
difference.

"It is a tribute, then, to the histrionic talents of Mr. Meader, of which
you were speaking," he replied laughingly.

Victoria glanced at him with interest as he looked down at Mr. Meader.

"And how is it to-day, Zeb?" he said.

"It ain't so bad as it might be--with sech folks as her and you araound,"
admitted Mr. Meader. "I'd almost agree to get run over again. She was
askin' about you, and that's a fact, and I didn't slander you, neither.
But I never callated to comprehend wimmen-folks."

"Now, Mr. Meader," said Victoria, reprovingly, but there were little
creases about her eyes, "don't be a fraud."

"It's true as gospel," declared the invalid; "they always got the better
of me. I had one of 'em after me once, when I was young and prosperin'
some."