“All——?” she questioned, with strong emphasis.
“Well,” I hastened to reply, “all that is strictly necessary for a stranger to know—as, for instance, that you don’t want to marry me, and that I never wanted to marry you——”
“Oh,” she cried, moving in a shocked, uneasy manner, “but I thought you did!”
“Well, but—,” I stammered, for I was momentarily unhinged, “you see you must put things that way to get Miss Irma to help us. She can do anything with my father, and I believe she could with yours too if she got a chance.”
“Oh, no, she couldn’t!”
“Well, anyway, she would serve us faithfully, so long as we couldn’t trust Agnes Anne. And you know we agreed upon that. If you can think of anything better, of course I leave it to you!”
She sat a long while making up her mind, with a woman’s intuition that all the cards were not on the table. But in the long run she could make no better of it.
“Well, I will,” she said; “I always liked her face, and I don’t believe she is nearly so haughty as people make out.”
“Not a bit, she isn’t——” I was beginning joyously, when I caught Lottie’s eye; “I mean—” I added lamely, “a girl always understands another girl’s affairs, and will help if she can—unless she has herself some stake in the game!”
And in saying this, I believe that for once in a way I hit upon a great and nearly universal truth.