"What a silly question! I shan't do anything: there's nothing for me to do."
"But shall you mind very much? You are very fond of Horace, aren't you?"
"Fond of him!" Addie repeated. "He is very pleasant to talk to, if you mean that."
"Oh, you can't deceive me so! I believe that you are in love with him," said Lottie solemnly.
The color rushed to Addie's face when her vaguely tender sentiments, indefinite as Horace's attentions, were described in this startling fashion. "Indeed, I'm nothing of the kind," she said hurriedly. "Pray don't talk such utter nonsense, Lottie. If you have nothing more sensible to say, you had better hold your tongue."
"But why are you ashamed of it?" Lottie persisted: "I wouldn't be." She had an unsuspected secret herself, but she would have owned it proudly enough had she been challenged.
"I'm not ashamed," said Addie; "and you know nothing about being in love, so you had better not talk about it."
"Oh yes, I do!" was the reply, uttered with Lottie's calm simplicity of manner: "I know how to tell whether you are in love or not, Addie. What would you do if a girl were to win Horace Thorne away from you?"
Pride and a sense of propriety dictated Addie's answer and gave sharpness to her voice: "I should say she was perfectly welcome to him."
Lottie considered for a moment: "Yes, I suppose one might say so to her, but what would you do? Wouldn't you want to kill her? And wouldn't you die of a broken heart?"