Miss G., indignantly.—"How can you insult me by supposing that I could be jealous of such a perfect little goose as that? No, Allen! Whatever I think of you, I still respect you too much for that."
Mr. R.—"I'm glad to hear that there are yet depths to which you think me incapable of descending, and that Miss Watervliet is one of them. I will now take a little higher ground. Perhaps you think I flirted with Mrs. Dawes. I thought, myself, that the thing might begin to have that appearance, but I give you my word of honour that as soon as the idea occurred to me, I dropped her,—rather rudely, too. The trouble was, don't you know, that I felt so perfectly safe with a married friend of yours. I couldn't be hanging about you all the time, and I was afraid I might vex you if I went with the other girls; and I didn't know what to do."
Miss G.—"I think you behaved rather silly, giggling so much with her. But"—
Mr. R.—"I own it, I know it was silly. But"—
Miss G.—"It wasn't that; it wasn't that!"
Mr. R.—"Was it my forgetting to bring you those things from your mother?"
Miss G.—"No!"
Mr. R.—"Was it because I hadn't given up smoking yet?"
Miss G.—"You know I never asked you to give up smoking. It was entirely your own proposition."
Mr. R.—"That's true. That's what made me so easy about it. I knew I could leave it off any time. Well, I will not disturb you any longer, Miss Galbraith." He throws his overcoat across his arm, and takes up his travelling-bag. "I have failed to guess your fatal—conundrum; and I have no longer any excuse for remaining. I am going into the smoking-car. Shall I send the porter to you for anything?"