"No. But I rather blame you for showing it. You see, I was annoyed too."
"Then you had nothing to do with—with bringing about the situation that existed?"
"Certainly not. Surely you do not think that I would—that I would——"
"I beg your pardon, Reenie," said Dave, contritely. "I should have known better. But it seemed such a strange coincidence."
She was toying with her cup, and for once her eyes avoided him. "You should hardly think, Dave," she ventured,—"you should hardly conclude that—what has been, you know, gives you the right—entitles you——"
"To a monopoly of your attentions. Perhaps not. But it gives me the right to a fair chance to win a monopoly of your attentions." He was speaking low and earnestly, and his voice had a deep, rich timbre in it that thrilled and almost frightened her. She could not resent his straightforwardness. She felt that he was already asserting his claim upon her, and there was something tender and delightful in the sense of being claimed by such a man.
"I must have a fair chance to win that monopoly," he repeated. "How did it happen that Conward was present?"
"I don't know. It just happened. A little after you telephoned me he called up and asked for mother, and the next I knew she said he was coming up to spend the evening. And then I said you were coming."
"And what did she say?"
Irene hesitated. "Please don't make me tell you," she whispered at length.