"And did he ask you to keep it a secret?" asked Helen, consulting her letter, her blue eyes dancing with fun.
"Yes, he did, now that I recall it. Oh, my! I'm sorry I mentioned it; but you took me by surprise."
"There's no harm done, my dear, and you need not look so conscience-stricken. Bless you, I don't mean to keep it a secret, although he prays me here to do so. Why, Teddy Darrell is the worst flirt in Boston, and proposes to a new girl every week, always trying to keep the new love a secret from the old one."
"But does no one ever accept him, Helen?"
"Perhaps. I don't know, I'm sure I sha'n't, and I'm just dying to tell the girls. Why, only last week we were comparing notes over him, and out of seven girls in the crowd he had asked five to marry him. Maud Sylvester said I'd be the next one on his list, and you see I am."
"But how can he fall in love so often?" queried Kathleen, laughing.
"He's very susceptible, I suppose, or maybe it's all in fun. You know some young men like to be engaged to several girls at once, so they can boast of their conquests, and maybe he's one of them. Well, I must lacerate his poor heart by a refusal," with a mock sigh.
"Who will be his next victim?" asked Kathleen.
"Either Maud Sylvester or Katie Wells. One is an actress, the other a novelist. He is wild over both fraternities."