"Yes," sobbed that young lady, putting her dainty silk handkerchief to
her eyes.

"Now, for goodness sake," said the young man, "don't do that. People
will think I am scolding you, and certainly there is no one in this
world who has less right to scold you than I have."

"I thought," murmured the young lady, from behind her handkerchief,
"that we might at least be friends. I didn't think you could ever act so
harshly towards me as you have done for the past few days."

"Act?" cried the young man. "Bless me, I haven't acted one way or the
other. I simply haven't had the pleasure of meeting you till the other
evening, or morning, which ever it was. I have said nothing, and done
nothing. I don't see how I could be accused of acting, or of anything
else."

"I think," sobbed the young lady, "that you might at least have spoken
kindly to me."

"Good gracious!" cried Morris, starting up, "here comes Miss Earle. For
heaven's sake put up that handkerchief."

But Blanche merely sank her face lower in it, while silent sobs shook
her somewhat slender form.

Miss Earle stood for a moment amazed as she looked at Morris's flushed
face, and at the bowed head of the young lady beside him; then, without
a word, she turned and walked away.