Miss Velrose laughed softly. “What do you suppose Lady Mary Montagu meant when she said that women see men with their ears? Didn’t she mean that they listen too much? Didn’t she mean that we should go into matrimony with our eyes open?” “I have not the presumption to analyze the cynicism of Lady Mary. She said some rather mean things about men. But let that go. You never could even imitate her. It isn’t at all in your line. I am sure of that or I shouldn’t tease you.” “Are you teasing me?” she asked, lifting her brows and lowering her lashes. [Illustration] “Does that mean that no one ever has dared to tease you, and that you don’t even know the signs? When Rollington teases you, is it very different?” “Rollington never teased me.” “‘Never _teased_ me.’ _Teased_—past tense. Then I am right.” Miss Velrose’s eyes were not as steady as she could have wished. She is a good tease herself. I owed her a few grudges. “Right about what?” she asked with a charming effect of indifference. “Right about that rustic bench. Forgive me. A man so seldom is right that you can’t expect him to be wholly composed when he blunders into anything.” “It is nice to see you so easily pleased. But just as a matter of reasonableness,” added Miss Velrose, “a past tense might have two meanings.” “True,” I admitted. “It might. I admit that. But when one alternative is supported by unmistakable signs why consider the other? Look at Rollington.” She bit her lip, and did not turn her head. Rollington was sauntering up the path from the boathouse. He was endeavoring to look _ennuyé_. “He is trying to look calm,” I said, “but it is a case of radiant repression. Rollington is a fine fellow. Sometimes the right thing happens. I am going to be more of an optimist than ever—even though you may never speak to me again.” “There are several things,” said Miss Velrose very steadily, but with a little amused flutter of the lips, “which some one should say to you.” “Oh, some one has!” I answered, getting up. “Don’t feel that you have to discipline me merely from a sense of duty.” “I abandon you to your own conscience.” “What cruelty!—you knowing that it is a Scotch conscience!” “Your sophistry will help you out,” said Miss Velrose, in a voice as if she knew that Rollington was very near. “I have at least one virtue,” I said. “I can keep a secret.” A proposition which is perfectly apparent. [Illustration] [Illustration] X WITH A BRIDE [Illustration]