Instead of being grateful to Vancouver for coming to her rescue in the rather foolish position in which she was placed, Joe felt unaccountably annoyed. She was willing to make sure of John herself, if she could, but she was not prepared to allow that privilege to any one else. Accordingly she turned upon Vancouver before John could answer. "The question began in a foolish comparison, Mr. Vancouver," she said coldly. "I think you are inclined to make it personal?" "I believe it became personal from the moment you hit upon Mr. Harrington and me as illustrations of what you were saying, Miss Thorn," retorted Vancouver, very blandly, but with a disagreeable look in his eyes. He was angry at Joe's rebuke. John stood calmly by without exhibiting the least shade of annoyance. The chaff of a mere girl, and the little satirical thrusts of a lady's man like Vancouver, did not seem to him of much importance. Joe, however, did not vouchsafe any answer to Vancouver's last remark, and it devolved on John to say something to relieve the awkwardness of the situation. "Have you become reconciled to our methods of amusement, Miss Thorn?" he asked, "or shall we devise something different from the everlasting sleighing and five o'clock tea, and dinner parties and 'dancing classes'?" "Oh, do not remind me of all that," said Joe. "I did not mean half of it, you know." She turned to John, and Vancouver moved away in pursuit of Sybil Brandon, who had just entered the room. "Tell me," said Joe, when Pocock was gone, "do you like Mr. Vancouver? You are great friends, are you not?" John looked at her inquiringly. "I should not say we were very great friends," he answered, "because we are not intimate; but we have always been on excellent terms, as far as I know. Vancouver is a very clever fellow." "Yes," said Joe, thoughtfully, "I fancy he is. You do not mind my having asked, do you?" "Not in the least," said John, quietly. His face had grown very grave again, and he seemed suddenly absorbed by some thought. "Let us sit down," he said presently, and the two installed themselves on a divan in a corner. "You are not in the least inquisitive," remarked Joe, as soon as they were settled. "What makes you say that?" asked John. "It was such a silly thing, you know, and you never asked what it was all about." "When you called me? No--I did not hear what led up to it, and I supposed from what you said afterwards that I understood." "Did you? What did you think?" asked Joe. "I thought from the question about Vancouver that you wanted to put us into an awkward position in order to find out whether we were friends." "No," said Joe, with a little laugh, "I am not so clever as that. It was pure silliness--chaff, you know--that sort of thing." "Oh," ejaculated John, still quite unmoved, "then it was not of any importance." "Very silly things sometimes turn out to be very important. Saul, you know--was not it he?--was looking for asses and he found a kingdom."