"My!" she retorted. "I really believe you improve with acquaintance."
"Thanks," I said; "I need encouragement."
"On the contrary," she said coolly, "I think a snubbing is what you need."
I dodged. "Yes," said I, "I could not help noticing that their affection is—er—rather immoderate."
Instantly a tiny line appeared between her brows; she was all seriousness again.
"There you have my interest in this matter—my reason for meddling," she informed me. "Belle's welfare means a great deal to me; just how much you can perhaps best understand after hearing a bit of my history. Have you the patience?"
What a question! Lucky it was for me this day that I could combine business with the delight of revelling in this agreeable tête-à-tête. It was lucky, in truth, for all who were being drawn into the web of the Page affair. For if the two had not fitted so smoothly together, the interests of the Central Office would have been forgotten.
She colored prettily at the ardor of my gaze—it was of no use; I could n't help it—but save for the circumstance that she temporarily averted her look from mine, went steadily ahead with what she had to say.
"I have been an orphan ever since I can remember, though my father and mother are not even memories. They fell victims to yellow fever in New Orleans before I was two years old. Uncle Alfred took me at once into his household, which has been my home all of my life that I know anything about.
"I am two years older than Belle, but reared together as we have been, we are more nearly sisters than cousins. Indeed, I even believe that we are closer together than most sisters; we love each other very, very dearly.