"Well, I knew most of that before," said Betty, quietly. "And what sort of a time have you been having this ten days?"
"I have been very glad to have her here," came the quick reply. "I ought to have known her long ago."
Betty looked at the speaker with a half-incredulous smile.
"You have been 'collecting' her, I suppose, as Hallin collects grasses. Of course, what I pine to know is what sort of a time she's had. You're not the easiest person in the world to get on with, my lady."
"I know that," said Marcella, sighing; "but I don't think she has been unhappy."
Betty's green eyes opened suddenly to the light.
"Are you ever going to tell me the truth? Have you got her under your thumb? Does she adore you?"
"Betty, don't be an idiot!"
"I expect she does," said Betty, thoughtfully, a myriad thoughts and conjectures passing through her quick brain as she studied her friend's face and attitude. "I see exactly what fate is going to happen to you in middle life. Women couldn't get on with you when you were a girl—you didn't like them, nor they you; and now everywhere I hear the young women beginning to talk about you, especially the young married women; and in a few years you will have them all about you like a cluster of doves, cooing and confessing, and making your life a burden to you."
"Well, suppose you begin?" said Marcella, with meaning. "I'm quite ready.
How are Frank's spirits since the great decision?"