"Not in this costume, certainly," laughed Florence.
"Then I shall say au revoir."
"Where am I to be taken?" said Duncan, as he and Marion descended the steps of the house.
"To meet my most bitter enemy, Mrs. McSeeney," she replied.
"I admire your courage," he said.
"O, there is no danger of bodily harm, as we are quite on speaking terms; a sort of armed neutrality, you know."
"Am I to be used as an offensive or a defensive weapon?" Duncan asked.
"Neither; I shall use you as a flag of truce; but whatever happens don't you dare to say she is good looking or brilliant."
"I promise," he answered, "but please tell me who she is and what she is."
"You ought to know her; she is a New Yorker,—at least she was three years ago—her husband is the president of an elevated railway company and made her come here to live. She hates Chicago, and takes her revenge by saying disagreeable things about it. For some reason she has singled me out as the particular object of her antipathy and you can imagine there is no love lost between us. But here we are at her door, so I can't tell you any more."