“You flatter yourself by imagining such a thing as—­”

“—­because there isn’t any more danger that I shall fall in love with you than there is of—­of—­well, of your falling in love with me; and you know how improbable—­”

“I don’t see any occasion to refer to love in any way,” she said, icily.  “Mamma certainly does not expect me to do such an extraordinary thing.  If you will talk sensibly, Phil, we may enjoy the drive, but if you persist in talking of affairs so ridiculous—­”

“I can’t say that I expect you to fall in love with me, so for once your mother and I agree.  Nevertheless, she didn’t want you to come with me,” he said, absolutely undisturbed.

“How do you know she didn’t?” she demanded, womanlike.  Then, before she was quite aware of it, they were in a deep and earnest discussion of Mrs. Garrison, and her not very complimentary views.

“And how do you feel about this confounded prospect, Dorothy?  You are not afraid of what a few gossips—­noble or otherwise—­may say about a friendship that is entirely the business of two people and not the property of the general public?  If you feel that I am in the way I’ll gladly go, you know.  Of course, I’d rather hate to miss seeing you once in a while, but I think I’d have the courage to—­”

“Oh, it’s not nice of you to be sarcastic,” she cried, wondering, however, whether he really meant “gladly” when he said it.  Somehow she felt herself admitting that she was piqued by his apparent readiness to abdicate.  She did not know that he was cocksure of his ground before making the foregoing and other observations equally as indifferent.

“I’m not sarcastic; quite the reverse.  I’m very serious.  You know how much I used to think of you—­”

“But that was long ago, and you were such a foolish boy,” she cried, interrupting nervously.

“Yes, I know; a boy must have his foolish streaks.  How a fellow changes as he gets older, and how he looks back and laughs at the fancies he had when a boy.  Same way with a girl, though, I suppose.”  He said it so calmly, so naturally that she took a sly peep at his face.  It revealed nothing but blissful imperturbability.

“I’m glad you agree with me.  You see, I’ve always thought you were horribly broken up when I—­when I found that I also was indulging in a foolish streak.  I believe I came to my senses before you did, though, and saw how ridiculous it all was.  Children do such queer things, don’t they?” It was his turn to take a sly peep, and his spirits went down a bit under the pressure of her undisguised frankness.

“How lucky it was we found it out before we ran away with each other, as we once had the nerve to contemplate.  Gad, Dorothy, did you ever stop to think what a mistake it would have been?” She was bowing to some people in a brougham, and the question was never answered.  After a while he went on, going back to the original subject.  “I shall see Mrs. Garrison to-night and talk it over with her.  Explain to her, you know, and convince her that I don’t in the least care what the gossips say about me.  I believe I can live it all down, if they do say I am madly, hopelessly in love with the very charming fiancee of an Italian prince.”