Paul's look was sad.
"That's a shade lower down than I think I've got," he observed loftily. "A man who'd lug in a lady friend's name under such circumstances wouldn't stop at the few trifles that still faze me. He—why, he'd even gold-crown an anterior tooth!"
She hastened to mollify him, relieved beyond measure that his chance informant knew nothing of the real reason for her dismissal. Amy could be trusted to conceal it for her own sake. Then Paul stirred her anxiety afresh with a request.
"I want to polish off Mr. Rose," he said, doubling his fist suggestively. "You made a good beginning, but the pup needs a thorough job. I know where he boards—he told me that night he butted in; and if you'll just let me call round as a friend of yours—"
"No, no. Promise me you won't!"
"But he needs it," argued the dentist, plaintively. "I'd also like, if it could be managed, to say a few things to the head of the firm."
"Indeed you mustn't," cried Jean. "Promise me you'll say nothing about it in any way!"
"Can't I even tell Rose what I think?"
"Never. I've got to accept this thing and make a new start. I must forget it, not brood over it. You mustn't thrash him, you mustn't tell him what you think—above all, you mustn't go to the firm. Promise me you won't!"
"All right," he assented, manifestly puzzled. "A girl looks at things differently. I've got another proposition, though, which I hope you won't veto. Any prejudice against dentists, present company excepted?"