“Oh, Allie!” she exclaimed, and this time there was genuine alarm in her voice, “you wouldn't leave me?” “Wouldn't I, though?” sneered Alfred. Before he knew it, Zoie's arms were about him--she was pleading desperately. “Now see here, Allie, you may call me all the names you like,” she cried with great self-abasement, “but you shan't--you SHAN'T go away from Chicago.” “Oh, indeed?” answered Alfred as he shook himself free of her. “I suppose you'd like me to go on with this cat and dog existence. You'd like me to stay right here and pay the bills and take care of you, while you flirt with every Tom, Dick and Harry in town.” “It's only your horrid disposition that makes you talk like that,” whimpered Zoie. “You know very well that I never cared for anybody but you.” “Until you GOT me, yes,” assented Alfred, “and NOW you care for everybody BUT me.” She was about to object, but he continued quickly. “Where you MEET your gentlemen friends is beyond me. _I_ don't introduce them to you.” “I should say not,” agreed Zoie, and there was a touch of vindictiveness in her voice. “The only male creature that you ever introduced to me was the family dog.” “I introduce every man who's fit to meet you,” declared Alfred with an air of great pride. “That doesn't speak very well for your acquaintances,” snipped Zoie. Even HER temper was beginning to assert itself. “I won't bicker like this,” declared Alfred. “That's what you always say, when you can't think of an answer,” retorted Zoie. “You mean when I'm tired of answering your nonsense!” thundered Alfred. CHAPTER IX Realising that she was rapidly losing ground by exercising her advantage over Alfred in the matter of quick retort, Zoie, with her customary cunning, veered round to a more conciliatory tone. “Well,” she cooed, “suppose I DID eat lunch with a man?” “Ah!” shrieked Alfred, as though he had at last run his victim to earth. She retreated with her fingers crossed. “I only said suppose,” she reminded him quickly. Then she continued in a tone meant to draw from him his heart's most secret confidence. “Didn't you ever eat lunch with any woman but me?” “Never!” answered Alfred firmly. There was an unmistakable expression of pleasure on Zoie's small face, but she forced back the smile that was trying to creep round her lips, and sidled toward Alfred, with eyes properly downcast. “Then I'm very sorry I did it,” she said solemnly, “and I'll never do it again.” “So!” cried Alfred with renewed indignation. “You admit it?” “Just to please you, dear,” explained Zoie sweetly, as though she were doing him the greatest possible favour. “To please me?” gasped Alfred. “Do you suppose it pleases me to know that you are carrying on the moment my back is turned, making a fool of me to my friends?”