“Oh no! I didn't say you approved of any. It sort of came out that you knew about them. She is so downright and conscientious. I declare I felt virtuous shivers running all over me all the time I was with her. I'm conscientious myself. I want everybody to know the worst of me. I wish I could practice some concealment. But she rather discourages me. She would take the color out of a career. She somehow doesn't allow for color, I could see. Duty, duty--that is the way she looks at life. She'd try to keep me up to it; no playing by the way. I liked her very much. I like people not to have too much toleration. She would be just the wife for some nice country rector.” “Perhaps I ought to tell her your plan for her? I dined with her last night at the Stotts'.” “Yes?” Carmen had been wondering if he would tell her of that. “Was it very dull?” “Not very. There was music, distant enough not to interfere with conversation, and the gallery afterwards.” “It must have been very exhilarating. You talked about the Duchess of Bolinbroke, and the opera, and Prince Talleyrand, and the corner in wheat--dear me, I know, so decorous! And you said Miss Debree was there?” “I had the honor of taking her out.” “Mr. Henderson”--the girl had risen to adjust the lamp-shade, and now stood behind his chair with her arm resting on it, so that he was obliged to turn his head backward to see her--“Mr. Henderson, do you know you are getting to be a desperate flirt?” The laughing eyes looking into his said that was not such a desperate thing to do if he chose the right object. “Who taught me?” He raised his left hand. She did not respond to the overture, except to snap the hand with her index-finger, and was back in her chair again, regarding him demurely. “I think we shall go abroad soon.” The little foot was on the fender again, and the face had the look of melancholy resolution. “And leave Mr. Lyon without any protection here?” The remark was made in a tone of good-humored raillery, but for some reason it seemed to sting the girl. “Pshaw!” she said. “How can you talk such nonsense? You,” and she rose to her feet in indignation--“you to advise an American girl to sell herself for a title--the chance of a title. I'm ashamed of you!” “Why, Carmen,” he replied, flushing, “I advised nothing of the sort. I hadn't the least idea. I don't care a straw for Mr. Lyon.” “That's just it; you don't care,” sinking into her seat, still unappeased. “I think I'll tell Mr. Lyon that he will have occupation enough to keep him in this country if he puts his money into that scheme you were talking over the other night.” Henderson was in turn annoyed. “You can tell him anything you like. I'm no more responsible for his speculations than for his domestic concerns.”