"Oh, yes. He collects soft paste figurines; he was a client of father's; but I found very soon that I couldn't go near him. He has a wife and children, too, and he keeps sending his wife to call on me. You know he's a good-looking young man, too, and I liked him; but I never dreamed——"
"Sure," he said, disgusted at his own sex—with the exception of himself.
"That seems to be the way of it," she said thoughtfully. "You can't be friends with men; they all annoy you sooner or later in one way or another!"
"Annoy you? Do you mean make love to you?"
"Yes."
"I don't; do I?"
She bent her head and sat playing with the petals of the white carnation drooping on her breast.
"No," she said calmly. "You don't annoy me."
"Would it seriously annoy you if I did make love to you some day?" he asked, lightly.
Instinct was whispering hurriedly to her: "Here it is at last. Do something about it, and do it quick!" She waited until her heart beat more regularly, then: