"You guessed it. It was abominable of you."
"Oh, see here! If I hadn't managed it you wouldn't have seen him—and he wouldn't have seen you."
"And what of that?" queried the cool voice, cool but sweet. Dot's voice, even in real anger, was never harsh.
"Well, what of it?" was the counter-question. "Can you honestly say you wish you hadn't met him, a real man like that?"
There was silence. Julius moved cautiously across the room, avoiding chairs as best he could. "Be honest now. Isn't he the real thing? And isn't Ridge Jordan—"
"Please don't talk about poor Ridge that way, Jule."
"Poor Ridge!" cried Julius. "Well, well, you didn't speak of him that way this morning. What's happened?"
"Nothing has happened. That is—"
He came close. There was a queer little shake in Dorothy's voice. She began to laugh then quite suddenly to cry. Julius came near enough to pat her down-bent head.
"Did that confounded close call shake you up a bit?" he inquired sympathetically. "By George! when I think what I let you and Kirke and everybody in for, starting earlier than they meant and all that, so we were just in time to meet that fool in the worst place on the road—"