They were rising from the table just then, and Una slipped her white fingers daringly through his arm, as she murmured the coquettish words. He looked down, saw the sudden radiance on her face, and a half-light broke upon his mind.
"So you did it to make me jealous, madame?" he said, gayly. "Very well; you attained your desire. But I must be off now. Come to the library one minute. I want you."
Inside the cozy little room, he said, kindly:
"You will want a new dress for the theater-party. How much?"
She drew back from him, scarlet with shame.
"Oh, no; I have plenty of dresses—more than I need."
"Very well, but you shall have a new dress if you wish it."
"But I do not wish it," hurriedly. "And—and—oh, Eliot, I'm afraid I cost you too much money! Sell the brown pony. I do not care for riding any more, and it is a useless expense to keep it."
His fair, handsome face grew suddenly stern.
"Who has been putting such nonsense in your head?" he demanded.