"Promise?" said the voice quickly, with a touch of pique. "I want no promise. It is nothing to me what you decide. I like you for your sportsmanlike qualities, and therefore I give you fair warning. It is for your own good that I suggest you go no further."
"Much obliged," said Jack dryly, "I'll consider it."
There was still pique in the voice. "Don't get a swelled head, my young friend. It is fatal to clever youths. I've been playing with you the last few weeks. It amused me to see how near I could let you come to me, and still evade you. But if I wished to keep out of your way, you could never get within miles of me!"
"Then why bother about the matter?"
"Because I am tired of the chase. I'm going to settle down into a nice hum-drum life of respectability. I'm not going to put myself to the trouble of running away from you."
"And if I should still keep after you?"
"I'd be awfully sorry," drawled the voice, "but I should really have to put a quietus on you. I could, you know. I've had a dozen chances within the past ten days."
Jack had no reason to doubt the truth of the last statement. He shivered a little. After all, life was sweet.
"I should hate to do it," the voice went on, "you're too good a sport."
"Much obliged," put in Jack.