"No; just this once."
"It would serve you right if I did!"
"I dare you to!"
"No! no! no! no!" she cried.
"Give me an option for thirty days."
"You silly!" she laughed. "For a sensible man you can be more kinds of foolish than any one I know."
"Flattery doesn't hurt anybody unless he swallows it," Cosden retorted complacently.
Whither their gibes would have carried them is needless to consider, for they were interrupted by the approach of a motor-car up the driveway.
"Monty has made a quick trip," Cosden observed, "now you can satisfy your curiosity."
"On the contrary," Edith retorted rising, "the plot thickens. That is Harry Thatcher. What in the world has happened to send him motoring down here at ten o'clock in the morning?"