"What if it does?"
"Ah! Then you admit that I am right?"
Alice saw that it was useless to fence with Mrs. Barrast, who was much too clever to be deceived and far too dangerous to be tampered with. "Yes! I am in love with—Mr. Montrose."
"Why not say with Douglas?" tittered the little woman.
"Douglas, if it pleases you."
"My dear, the question is if it pleases you and—him. Am I blind?" asked Mrs. Barrast dramatically. "Am I a fool? Do you think that during the past three weeks I have left you and that nice boy together without guessing the truth ages and ages ago? I never ask for tickets. He gives them to me to get me out of the way, which"—ended the butterfly justly—"is not complimentary to me."
"I don't mind Mr.—well then, Douglas, giving you boxes at the theatres," said Alice petulantly; "but why take flowers and gloves and——"
"Because I want such things," retorted Mrs. Barrast coolly. "If you are foolish enough not to take presents from him, I don't see why I should not. But I am glad that we have come to an understanding, dear, as I wish to know if you are in earnest, or if you are merely flirting."
"And if I am flirting?"
"Then I think it's very horrid of you. He has a heart and hearts can be broken. I don't flirt myself," said Mrs. Barrast, uttering the lie with the greatest composure, "but if you are making a fool of that nice boy I shall take him off your hands and be a—a—well, a mother to him."