“Then I shall apply to that young man.”
“Very well, apply to him—and regret it.”
“He is very handsome,” she said, aggravatingly.
“Very.”
“And young.”
“Quite a baby like yourself.”
“I like him,” she said, tauntingly.
“But you would not cry over his photograph.”
She sprang up, opened her mouth to make a response, thought better of it, and, with a threatening frown, ran down the steps to the deck.