"Nothing Quixotic about you, is there?" said De Forest, looking at her quizzically.
"Nothing whatever," replied Gerald, easily. "Why should there be? Let every one look out for himself."
"And if some can't?"
"That is no business of mine. It's simply my business to make sure that I can look after myself."
"What an outrageously frank exposure of a universally concealed sentiment! Mr. Halloway is scandalized. He is thinking how he can fit a scorching text to it to wither you with next Sunday."
"No; here is a sermon ready made on the spot," said Denham, as Phebe came slowly toward them. "Miss Lane in herself is a sufficient illustration of the opposite doctrine."
"Prove it," answered Gerald, shrugging her shoulders. "Prove that Phebe, who toils for everybody, is any happier than I, who only follow my inclination."
"You certainly look vastly the more comfortable at present," said De Forest, looking from Gerald's cool cheeks and unruffled muslin flounces to Phebe's flushed face and tumbled cambric. "You are a practical embodiment of the beauty and expediency of selfishness."
"What are you talking about?" asked Phebe, coming up and leaning wearily against a tree.
"About you and Miss Vernor," explained Bell. "Which of you is happier? I should say Miss Vernor decidedly."