"I'm not half so much afraid when you're nasty." "Thank you! What then did you do," he asked, "with my note ?" "You deserve that I should have spread it out on my dressing-table--or left it, better still, in Maud Blessingbourne's room." He wondered while he laughed.

"Oh but what does SHE deserve ?" It was her gravity that continued to answer.

"Yes--it would probably kill her." "She believes so in you ?" "She believes so in YOU.

So don't be TOO nice to her." He was still looking, in the chimney-glass, at the state of his beard--brushing from it, with his handkerchief, the traces of wind and wet.

"If she also then prefers me when I'm nasty it seems to me I ought to satisfy her.