D—–­ the vixen.  She was making game of me.  But I struggled to hold my temper, taking her literally.

“Nihilism?  Political or moral, Miss Van Wyck?  To one of your means, the first would be inconvenient; to one of your affections, the other dangerous.”

She flashed a narrow glance at me. “Touchee. I like the thrust from cover, but I can parry.  Suppose that I said that I would relinquish Jerry.”

“I’m not sure that you can,” I replied coolly.

Our glances met again.  She knew that I read her.

“Nothing is impossible to intelligence.  I could send him away tomorrow, today—­”

“But he would come back.”

“You frighten me,” she said, shuddering prettily.

“That is precisely what I wish to do,” I went on stolidly.

“Threats!”

I shrugged.  “You underestimate him, that’s all.”

“Perhaps.  You know, Mr. Canby, that you improve vastly on acquaintance.  If you were younger—­” She paused and looked at me slantwise.

“Ingenuous, handsome, a fighting god—!”

I could have bitten out my tongue the moment I had spoken the words, and the dark look she shot at me as she flashed around gave a measure of her latent deviltry.

“Jerry told you that!” she said in tones half-suppressed.

“No.”

“He did.”

“No.  But I know.  I haven’t watched for a month for nothing.  I’m not a child, Miss Van Wyck.”

“What are you?” she taunted.

“A prophet.  Jerry is no woman’s plaything.  Let him be.  You don’t know him as I do.  I warn you.”

She suddenly went into a fit of laughter, meant to ruffle my dignity.

“Off with my head!  If you knew how much you remind me of the Queen in ’Alice in Wonderland’!”

“I’m sorry you won’t take me seriously.”

“I can’t,” she laughed again.  “You’re too absurd to be tragic.”

“Perhaps we had better be going toward the house,” I remarked.

She moved slowly along, her back eloquent of disdain.  But she paused for a moment to let me join her.

“You see?  I’ve tried.  You won’t be friendly.”

“My advice is friendly—­”

“I never follow advice.  We’re enemies.  It is written.”

I shrugged.  Impolite I may have been, but there was no use mincing matters.  My preposterous embassy had failed.  As we neared the house she left me on the lawn and turned to where Jerry and the others were moving toward the tennis courts.

“You’ll find Miss Gore upon the veranda,” she smiled over her shoulder with careless gayety.  She was extraordinary.  But I’m sure that never before had I hated the girl as at that moment.  Thoughtfully I made my way to the veranda and Miss Gore.

“Well,” she said cheerfully as I sank into a chair, “you are friends again?”

“No.”

“It’s really too bad.  I think you take life too seriously, Mr. Canby.”