"One that you do not understand," said Christine, keenly.
The petted and spoiled millionaire flushed angrily a moment, and then said with a bow: "You are right, Miss Ludolph. Mr. Fleet is acquainted with one or two arts that I have never had the pleasure of learning."
"He has at least learned the art of being a gentleman," was the sharp retort.
The young man's face grew darker, and he said, "From the sweeping nature of your remarks, I perceive that Mr. Fleet is high in your favor."
"A poor pun made in poorer taste," was all the comfort he got from
Christine.
Dennis was naturally of a very jealous disposition where his affections were concerned. His own love took such entire possession of him that he could not brook the interference of others, or sensibly consider that they had the same privilege to woo, and win if possible, that he had. Especially distasteful to him was this rich and favored youth, whose presence awakened all his combativeness, which was by no means small.
Mr. Mellen's most inopportune interruption and covert taunts provoked him beyond endurance. His face was fairly white with rage, and for a moment he felt that he could stamp his rival out of existence. In the low, concentrated voice of passion he said, "If Mr. Mellen should lose his property, as many do, I gather from his remarks that he would still keep up his idea of a gentleman on charity."
Mr. Mellen flushed to the roots of his hair, his hands clenched. In the flashing eyes and threatening faces of the young men those witnessing the scene foresaw trouble. A light hand fell on Dennis's arm, and Miss Winthrop said, "Mr. Fleet, I wish to show you a picture, and ask your judgment in regard to it."
Dennis understood the act, and in a moment more his face was crimson with shame.
"Miss Winthrop, you ought to send me home at once. I told you I was unfit for society. Somehow I am not myself. I humbly ask your pardon."