"Is he in love with you?" persisted Kathleen.
Esmé lifted up a very clear and sweet mezzo-soprano in a mocking lilt of song:—
"How should my heart know What love may be?"
The visitor regarded her admiringly. "Of course he is. What man wouldn't be! And you've seen a lot of him lately, haven't you?"
"I'm helping him run his paper—with good advice."
"Oh-h-h!" Miss Pierce's soft mouth and big eyes formed three circles. "And you're going to advise him—"
"I'm going to advise him ver-ree earnestly not to say a word about you in the paper, if you'll promise never, never to do it again."
The other clasped her in a bear-hug. "You duck! I'll just crawl through the streets after this. You watch me! The police will have to call time on me to make sure I'm not obstructing the traffic. But, Esmé—"
"Well?"
Kathleen caught her hand and snuggled it up to her childishly. "How often do you see Hal Surtaine?"