"No I don't," indignantly. "I see only you—and—I wish I didn't."
"Very rude; very!" says Mr. Browne, regretfully. "Yet I entreat thee not to leave me without one other word. Follow up the argument—do. Give me an answer to it."
"Not one," walking to the door.
"That's because it is unanswerable," says Mr. Browne complacently. "You are beaten, you——"
There is a sound outside the door; Joyce with her hand on the handle of it, steps back and looks round nervously at Dicky. A quick color has dyed her cheeks; instinctively she moves a little to one side and gives a rapid glance into a long mirror.
"I don't think really he could find a fault," says Mr. Browne mischievously. "I should think there will be a good deal of hankering going on to-night."
Miss Kavanagh has only just barely time to wither him, when Beauclerk comes hurriedly in.
CHAPTER XI.
"Thinkest thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, And sting the luckless foot that presses them? There are, who in the path of social life Do bask their spotted skins in fortune's son, And sting the soul."