looked at her tormentor. "Yes, I like him, and I'll tell you more than
that;" she bent over and added in an intense whisper, "I love him, and
if you say another word to me about him, or if you dare to discuss me
with him, I shall go up to him where he stands now and accept him. I
shall say to him, 'George Morris, I love you.' Now if you doubt I shall
do that, just continue in your present style of conversation."

Blanche leaned back in the steamer chair and turned a trifle pale. Then
she laughed, that irritating little laugh of hers, and said, "Really I
did not think it had gone so far as that. I'll bid you good morning."

The moment the chair was vacated, George Morris strolled up and sat down
on it.

"What has that vixen been saying to you?" he asked.

"That vixen," said Miss Earle, quietly, "has been telling me that you
and she were discussing me this morning, and discussing the conversation
that took place last night."

"It is a lie," said Morris.

"What is? What I say, or what she said, or what she says you said?"

"That we were discussing you, or discussing our conversation, is not
true. Forgive me for using the coarser word. This was how it was; she
came up to me--"

"My dear Mr. Morris, don't say a word. I know well enough that you would
not discuss the matter with anybody. I, perhaps, may go so far as to