“Yes; she understands getting herself up,” said Danforth, “and touches up her cheeks a bit now and then.” “She don’t paint, though?” “Don’t paint! _Don’t_ she? I’d like to know if she don’t; but she does it like an artist, like an old master, in fact.” “Or like a young mistress,” said Tom, and then laughed at his own wit. Now, it so happened that John was sitting at an open window above, and heard occasional snatches of this conversation quite sufficient to impress him disagreeably. He had not heard enough to know exactly what had been said, but enough to feel that a set of coarse, low-minded men were making quite free with the name and reputation of his Lillie; and he was indignant. “She is so pretty, so frank, and so impulsive,” he said. “Such women are always misconstrued. I’m resolved to caution her.” “Lillie,” he said, “who is this Danforth?” “Charlie Danforth—oh! he’s a millionnaire that I refused. He was wild about me,—is now, for that matter. He perfectly haunts my rooms, and is always teasing me to ride with him.” “Well, Lillie, if I were you, I wouldn’t have any thing to do with him.” “John, I don’t mean to, any more than I can help. I try to keep him off all I can; but one doesn’t want to be rude, you know.” “My darling,” said John, “you little know the wickedness of the world, and the cruel things that men will allow themselves to say of women who are meaning no harm. You can’t be too careful, Lillie.” “Oh! I am careful. Mamma is here, you know, all the while; and I never receive except she is present.” John sat abstractedly fingering the various objects on the table; then he opened a drawer in the same mechanical manner. “Why, Lillie! what’s this? what in the world are these?” “O John! sure enough! well, there is something I was going to ask you about. Danforth used always to be sending me things, you know, before we were married,—flowers and confectionery, and one thing or other; and, since I have been here now, he has done the same, and I really didn’t know what to do about it. You know I didn’t want to quarrel with him, or get his ill-will; he’s a high-spirited fellow, and a man one doesn’t want for an enemy; so I have just passed it over easy as I could.” “But, Lillie, a box of cigarettes!—of course, they can be of no use to you.” “Of course: they are only a sort of curiosity that he imports from Spain with his cigars.” “I’ve a great mind to send them back to him myself,” said John. “Oh, don’t, John! why, how it would look! as if you were angry, or thought he meant something wrong. No; I’ll contrive a way to give ’em back without offending him. I am up to all such little ways.” “Come, now,” she added, “don’t let’s be cross just the little time you have to stay with me. I do wish our house were not all torn up, so that I could go home with you, and leave Newport and all its bothers behind.” “Well, Lillie, you could go, and stay with me at Gracie’s,” said John, brightening at this proposition.