“Don’t dare me.”
“What if I tell them that Margie was Mother Flintstone’s granddaughter——”
“She wasn’t!” flashed Claude Lamont.
“You take it up in a jiffy,” grinned Nora. “If she wasn’t why did you resent my words so soon?”
For half a second Lamont watched the dark face before him, and then he said:
“We’ll call it quits. After all, perhaps you couldn’t have helped it. The lamp fell from your hand, did it?”
“I told you once.”
“And you couldn’t stop the flames?”
“I couldn’t. I’d give my eyes if that girl was alive to-day. I did not do it intentionally. My evil genius must have been on the watch.”
“We’ll say so, at any rate, Nora.”