"I confess that I don't understand you," said Gladys. "Do you, Montague?"
"Do you, Montague?" sarcasmed Devereux.
"Well, seeing that we're just discussing the matter when you blew along, I sort of reckon he does. Tell the lady what it is, Monte; you advised me to ask her."
"Tell her yourself, you tattle-tale!" laughed Pendleton. "Gladys will understand the spirit in which I said it."
"You must admit that you didn't and don't approve!"
"Certainly—as I've already told Gladys; but I've not asked for her reasons. They are her own, I take it."
"And I'm just curious, you think? Well, let it go at that. I am curious, I admit it, to know—and Pendleton advised me to ask you, Gladys—why you invited Porshinger to Criss-Cross the other Sunday? You see what has been the result: the bars are down. Why did you do it?"
"Because I wanted to do it," she replied sweetly.
"Undoubtedly. You don't do much that you don't want to do—but what was your ulterior motive?"