"Why, Artie Beg, to be sure! Who else? And as to the girls—well, as I discovered it for myself, I shall not be betraying their confidence to say that the girls are—will you promise not to tell nor to interfere in anyway?"
"Of course," said the Angel.
"Well, the girls are Flora Forsyth and Cary Farquhar."
"Flora Forsyth!" exclaimed the Angel, with a wry face.
"Now, Aubrey, what have you against that poor girl? To me she is one of the most fascinating creatures I ever saw. If I were a man, I should be crazy about her."
"Then if you had been Samson, Delilah would have made a fool of you just as easily as she did of him."
"But Flora is no Delilah, Aubrey."
"She's worse!" said the Angel, shortly.
Aubrey leaned back in his Morris chair and puffed at his pipe.
Presently he spoke:
"Those two girls are both clever,—as clever as they make 'em,—but Cary's cleverness is full of ozone, while Flora's is permeated with a narcotic. Cary's tricks make one laugh, but the other girl's give one the shivers."