"Suppose she what?"
"Why, suppose she—suppose she—she liked somebody else?"
Jack looked shrewdly at Dick's confused face, and burst into a laugh.
"I guessed those letters were pretty fair," he burst out, "but they must have been much worse than I even suspected!"
"What do you mean?" stammered Dick.
"Mean? Oh, nothing,—nothing in the world. By the way, as the matter relates to my fiancée, I hope you won't mind my asking if she's written to you since our engagement."
"Why—"
"Then she has written," pronounced Jack, smiling more than ever at the confusion of his friend. "You haven't the cheek to bluff a baby, Dick. I should hate to see you try to run a kelter through."
"She only wrote to say that she was glad the Count didn't write 'Love in a Cloud,' and a few things, you know, that she wanted to say."
Jack flung the end of his cigarette away and stepped swiftly forward to catch his chum by the shoulders behind. He whirled Dick about like a teetotum.