"Who does?" he asked.
"Frank kept coming and coming," continued she, "and getting more and more bothersome, and"—
"More what?"
"Bothersome, acting foolish, you know, about me, as if he were—well you understand, of course, what I mean. I don't think I'm vain; but he did act as if he was—why, as if he liked me."
"Made love to you, you mean?"
"Yes: I suppose so."
"The puppy!"
"Why, that wasn't any harm, was it?" she asked naïvely. "Only, of course, I hate to have him about all the time, and I never liked him very well."
"I should hope not," the young man interpolated with emphasis.