Polly regarded her in amazement.  “You act as if you are glad of it,” she said.

“I am,” confessed Constance, and breaking off one of the big red roses she rose, surveyed herself in the glass, tried the effect of it against her dark hair and finally pinned it on her dressing-gown.

Polly plumped into a big rocking-chair to vent her indignation.

“I don’t see anything to giggle at!” she declared.  “Johnny Gamble’s a friend of mine.  I’m going home.”

“Don’t, Polly,” laughed Constance.  “Why, this is one of Johnny’s roses;” and she gave it an extra touch—­really a quite affectionate one.

“I’m all mussed up in my mind,” complained Polly in a maze of perplexity.  “Johnny Gamble made a million dollars so he could ask you to throw away your million and marry him, and you were so tickled with the idea that you kept score for him.”

Constance smiled irritatingly.

“I kept score because it was fun.  He never told me why he wanted the money.”

“You may look like an innocent kid, but you knew that much,” accused Polly.

Constance flushed, but she sat down by Polly to laugh.

“To tell you the truth, Polly, I did suspect it,” she admitted.

“Yes, and you liked it,” asserted Polly.

Constance flushed a little more deeply.

“It was flattering,” she acknowledged. “but really, Polly, it brought me into a most humiliating position.  At the Courtneys’ house-party I overheard Mr. Courtney tell his wife that Mr. Gamble was making a million dollars in order to marry me; and Johnny was with me at the time!”

The hint of a twinkle appeared in Polly’s indignant eyes as she began to comprehend the true state of affairs.

“Suppose he did?” she demanded.  “Everybody knew it.”

Constance immediately took possession of the indignation and made it her own.

“They had no business to know it!”

Polly smiled.

“Every place I went that day I heard the same thing,” continued Constance much aggrieved—­“Johnny Gamble’s million, and me, and Gresham, and the million dollars I would have to forfeit if I didn’t marry Paul.  It was million, million, wherever I turned!”

“The million-dollar bride,” laughed Polly.

“Don’t!” cried Constance.  “Please don’t, Polly!  You’ve done quite enough.  Even you came to me out there that day to tell me that now Johnny had made his million and was coming to propose to me.  Why, you knew it before I did.”

“I’m sorry I found it out,” apologized Polly.  “I got it from Loring.”

“Why didn’t you say that it was Loring who told you?” demanded Constance, disposed now to be indignant at everything.

“I didn’t know you were jealous,” retorted Polly.

“Jealous!” exclaimed Constance.  “Why, Johnny wasn’t even civil to any other girl.”

Polly smiled knowingly.

“Then why did you quarrel with him?”