"You do, do you?"
"Yes, lady."
"Then," she declared, in her tragic voice, "I like you."
He flushed like a girl flushes, though his grin was his own specialty.
"Say," he began, in confidential glee, "Miss Blair said you would—"
"Tell Lydia Blair that she's at liberty to bestow her affections when and as she chooses; but beg her to be kind enough to allow me to dispose of mine. You'd like to see her room."
She was turning to begin her stone march toward the stairs, but Drinkwater held her back.
"Say, lady, is it—is it her room?"
"Certainly; it's the one she's always had when she's been with me, and which she reserved by letter four weeks ago. I was to expect her as soon as the steamer docked."
"Oh, then—" the boy began to stammer.