"As a mark of special favor."
For a moment John's face reddened, and he looked the awkwardness of his state of mind, his eyes shifting from the boot to Marien's face and back again.
Her face took on an amused smile, and the boot wiggled suggestively.
"Oh," exclaimed John, blushing with fresh confusion at his own dullness as he bent forward and began to struggle with the buttons of the boot.
"You see," he explained presently, still worrying with the combination of the first button, "you see—well, I guess I don't know women very well."
Marien laughed happily.
"Stage women!" John added, as if by an afterthought.
"Stage women," affirmed Marien loyally, "are no different from other women—only wiser." Then she tagged her speech sententiously with, "They have to be. Careful! You will tear the buttons off. And you—you are pinching me!"
"I beg your pardon," stammered John. "But there are so very many of these buttons."
After an interval during which Marien had appeared to watch his labors with amused interest, she asked, with mocking humor: