"Where do you get your appointment as general manager of the matter,
Dorrie? You certainly don't get it from me!"
"Leaving it to be inferred—"
"I leave nothing to be inferred," declared her brother, righteously indignant. "Dorrie, you absolutely must get off that habit of carving your own kin in order to keep up the edge of your tongue. I wouldn't as much as intimate it, by denying it, that you get your meddling commission from Lana. If this is all you wanted to talk about, I'll have to be going. This is my busy evening!"
"Just one moment! It's always the busiest man who has time to attend to one thing more! I'm assuming that you love Lana."
"Conceded! You always did have a good eye in that line, Dorrie!"
"Then my advice, as an expert, ought to be respected. You go ahead and get a promise from Lana Corson. Then you'll have somebody working for your interests day and night."
"Who?"
"Her New England conscience!"
Young Mr. Daunt gave his sister a long, searching, and sophisticated stare. "I think I have a little the advantage of you, Dorrie. I met to-day this Mr. Stewart Morrison you're speaking of!"
"I haven't spoken of him! I haven't mentioned his name!"