Nevins shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know about the convictions," he rejoined, "but I've got the courage all right." Then he looked at Mariana. "Is that an implement of housewifery that I see?" he demanded.
"I have been to a darning-party," she answered, "but we didn't darn anything—not even circumstances."
"Lucky circumstances!" ejaculated Nevins. Then he lowered his voice. "I should not have believed it of you," he protested; "to attend a darning-party, and to leave not only me, but my socks, outside."
Mariana flushed angrily.
"You are insufferable," she said, "and you haven't a particle of tact—not a particle. Only yesterday I heard you tell Mr. Morris that his head looked like an advertisement for sapolio, and the day before you told Miss Freighley that I said she didn't know how to dress her hair."
"It was true," said Nevins. "You can't make a liar of me, Mariana."
"I wish you wouldn't call me Mariana," she retorted; and he went upon his way with a lament.
As Mariana laid her hand upon her door-knob she looked at Anthony.
"Mr. Algarcife," she said, "do you really mind my singing so very much?"