After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.
"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel shame in so doing. It must be that this strange love makes one brazen. You, Madge, would die with shame had you sought any man as I have sought John. I would not for worlds tell you how bold and over-eager I have been."
"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.
"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all." Another pause ensued, after which Madge asked:—
"How did you know he had been smoking?"
"I—I tasted it," responded Dorothy.
"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned Madge in wonderment.
Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain attempts to explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and kissed her.
"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge, although she had some doubts in her own mind upon the point.
"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care to live."