"We've quarrelled nevertheless, and all because of Porshinger. Montague insisted that I was encouraging the 'bounder,'—and one thing led to another until I flashed out. Montague lost patience and grew angry—and we fought."
"Like two children!" the other laughed. "What in the world ever possessed you to quarrel with Montague Pendleton, the best friend surely a woman ever had?"
"I think it was the devil!" confessed Stephanie.
"The devil at the very least," agreed her friend. "Have you given him no chance since to make it up?"
"I've seen him only once—on the street. I think he has been away."
"How like a woman!" Gladys remarked. "To quarrel with the one man who is devoted to her, absolutely devoted to her, and who hasn't a selfish thought where she is concerned! Stephanie, I feel like shaking you!"
"I feel like shaking myself," Stephanie replied. "By the way, didn't you ever quarrel with your best man friend? I think I can recollect several at different times—for instance——"
"Of course you can recollect—but don't!" Gladys laughed. "However, none of the interested parties was a Montague Pendleton. Good heavens! my dear, do you realize what he has been to you—what he is to you?"
"I think that is just what made me quarrel—the perversity of the woman. I'll make it up, however, and he will let me make it up, and we will be better friends for this little disagreement. The nice thing about Montague is his broad-mindedness."
"One of the nice things," amended Gladys. "He has got several more—more, indeed, than any man I know. I never could understand, Stephanie, why you——" she broke off and jabbed her fork into her salad.