"And this other man is so superlatively beautiful, and has such entrancing hair and such melting eyes," said Justin, sarcastically, "and also having been a former friend of the discontented doll, she suffers from the pangs of jealousy."
"She does not," said Derrice, decidedly.
"Tell me how much you knew of Bernal Huntington in former days?" said Justin. "I have not had a chance to ask you before. Come, sit on my knee, dolly, and tell me about it."
Derrice shrugged her shoulders, then shook her head so vehemently that her whole mass of light hair came tumbling about her shoulders. "I never flirted with him, Justin."
"I should hope not. You were too young. Where did you meet him?"
"In western Canada. When we were travelling we often met nice girls, and my father always took me to see them if he could. Once we met an English girl on a Cunard steamer. She was going to visit her brother, who had a ranch in Manitoba. I liked her ever so much, and the next year, after we had been doing the Rocky Mountains, my father took me to the nearest town to the ranch. This girl and her brother used to drive into town,—oh, such queer sights they would be, for if they couldn't get horses they took mules. The people used to come in from all the country round about, particularly if there were dances at the hotel. Among them was a handsome New Yorker who was visiting a cousin. They called him Lucifer, or the son of the morning, from a little play they acted. How stunning he used to look, Justin, driving in with his cousin's tandem, or else riding on horseback! He had a friend with him called Mr. Denham, and finally they came to stay at our hotel. I was too young to go to the dances, but Mr. Huntington often talked to me, and I simply adored him. But one day my father suddenly said we must leave. I don't think he liked Mr. Huntington, but I am not sure. You know he never talks much."
"Yes, I know," said Justin, absently stroking her hair.
"The girls were crazy about Mr. Huntington,—simply crazy. You know there are some men that women just rave about."
"And some uninteresting ones like myself that they don't care a fig about."
"No, not uninteresting," said Derrice, sweetly.