"Is it that young Davis?" She shook her head. "It's some one you don't like very well." "That's natural," I replied. "I don't love any of my rivals. Who is it?" "Promise you won't say anything if I tell you who it is?" "Of course I won't say anything," I said a little haughtily. "You have a perfect right to go with any one you care to." "It's Frank Woods." "Mary," I gasped, "do you mean to say you'd be seen with that man, after what he did to Jim?" "Now, Bupps, you promised not to say anything." "I know--but this is different. Do you think I'll stand quietly by and see that man make a fool of you as he did of Helen? Do you think I'll let that--that rake make love to you?" "He's not going to make love to me!" Mary answered with some asperity. "That's what you think. That's what Helen thought and Jim thought. That's what all of them think when he starts. Do you know what he wants to do? He asked you to go out with him so he could try to borrow money of you, to save his rotten hide." "But, Bupps, he didn't ask me to go riding with him. I asked him to take me." "You asked him to take you?" I cried. "Don't talk so loud, Bupps! The people on the street will hear you." If there was anything she could have said that would have made me angrier than I already was, it was that. "I'm not talking loud," I shouted, "and what if I do? The people on the street may hear me, but they will _see_ you with Frank Woods, which is a hundred times worse. Why, it is as much as a girl's reputation is worth to be seen alone with him." "I'll take care of my reputation," she replied coldly. "You think you will," I said, flinging myself into a chair. "Warren! Do you know that's insulting?" Mary exclaimed angrily. "You're acting like a schoolboy. I have good reasons for wanting to go out with Frank Woods." "Reasons!" I sneered. She went into the hall and I followed. "Mary, I don't know what your reasons are, and I don't care. I'm not going to have that man making love to you. Either you don't go out with him, or I quit." Mary turned and looked me straight in the eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Any girl who is Frank Woods' friend, after the mess he stirred up in my family, isn't my friend." Mary's face was white, but her little chin was set determinedly. "That's just as you wish," she said, and ran up-stairs. I picked up my hat and gloves and left the house. CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE ANSWER The coroner and I drove out to the bridge that afternoon and I must admit I was mighty poor company. Mary's unreasonableness, her stupid obstinacy, when she knew she was wrong and I was right, her willingness to break our friendship at the first opportunity, gave me little room to think of anything else.