She threw back her head, and then a strange, defiant laugh burst from her lips.
“Very well, sir,” she sneered. “I will tell the truth.”
“Go on, go on! Why did you come here, madam?”
“I came because I wished to meet Frank Merriwell.”
“Ha! You confess it?”
“Yes, I confess it!”
“Ah-a!”
“I admire him—I love him!” declared the woman.
“Ah-a!” again burst from the lips of her husband.
“He is my ideal.”