"
"Who had stuffed it up to begin with?" Chevenix murmured; but Ingram
ignored him.
"I told her the whole thing--"
"After she had found it out!" cried Chevenix with energy. "Let's have
cards on the table. I told Vicky all about it at a dance--and Vicky told
her."
"I told her," Ingram said, "that I was in love with her, and promised to
behave--and so I should have, only--"
"Only you didn't, old chap."
"She loved me--there was no stopping it then. The thing was done. Mind
you, her people knew it all, too."
"The mother always was a fool," Chevenix agreed. "And she liked you."
"I know she did. I took care of that."
"Not a bit of it, my boy," the other objected. "That's just what you
didn't do. She liked you because she thought you didn't care a curse
whether she liked you or not."
Ingram raised his eyebrows at such _naivete_. "That's what I mean, of
course. So it went on all that summer. We used to shake when we met each
other, and be speechless. By heavens, what a time that was! Do you
remember the tea-party?"
Chevenix blinked. "I wasn't there; but I remember what happened
afterwards. The poor child--as white as a sheet--and every hand lifted
against her.
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