Mr. Tiernan regarded her guilelessly, but there was admiration in his soul; not because of her unquestioned feminine attractions,—he being somewhat amazingly proof against such things,—but because it was conveyed to him in some unaccountable way that her suspicions were aroused. The brain beneath that corkscrew hair was worthy of a Richelieu. Mr. Tiernan's estimate of Miss Lise Bumpus, if he could have been induced to reveal it, would have been worth listening to.
"And why wouldn't you?" he replied heartily. "Don't I see all the pretty young ladies out there, including yourself, and you dancing with the Cascade man. Why is it you'll never give me a dance?"
"Why is it you never ask me?" demanded Lise.
"What chance have I got, against him?"
"He don't own me," said Lise.
Mr. Tiernan threw back his head, and laughed.
"Well, if you're there to-night, tangoin' with him and I come up and says, `Miss Bumpus, the pleasure is mine,' I'm wondering what would happen."
"I'm not going to Slattery's to-night," she declared having that instant arrived at this conclusion.
"And where then? I'll come along, if there's a chance for me."
"Quit your kidding," Lise reproved him.