"A man should have no secrets from his—proposed—wife." "Make it _promised_ wife and I’ll agree," Hazard replied eagerly, taking her hand. "No; we’ll leave it _proposed_ awhile longer," she answered him archly. "I’ve become so accustomed to it that way that I’d hate to change it." The smile she gave him as she slowly drew away her hand would have bribed any man to treason. "But we will compromise it," Lola continued. "I will be real careful of your honour. I’ll ask you a question, and if the answer is _yes_ you needn’t answer it. Now—was it not an insult to Elise that Mr. Rutledge resented?" "Lola, when you said that word _wife_ a moment since you were—heavenly." "Hush your nonsense, Ollie.... I knew it was Elise when you said that thing in the parlour.... Did Mr. Rutledge really break his jaw?" "Oh, it was beautiful, beautiful," said Hazard with enthusiasm. "Such a clean left-hander! Dropped him like a beef—he’s big as two of Rutledge—in a wink—before he could finish his sentence,—the low-bred dog! Yes, beautifully done, beaut—" "Here they come," said Lola. She was busily breaking out the stores from the sideboard when Elise and Rutledge appeared. "Here, Mr. Hazard, take this dish in to that mooning young couple in the back parlour. And you, Mr. Rutledge, just force them to eat enough of these pickles to keep their tempers in equilibrium." * * * * * "Oh, my dear," she exclaimed when the two men were gone, "I’ve discovered the name of the young woman Mr. Rutledge fought for. Ollie let it get away from him—not the name, but I figured it out. And for whom do you suppose it was?" "I haven’t the slightest idea," answered Elise in all truthfulness. "Of all women you should. I told you I could see it in his eyes,"’ laughed Lola. "Not for me?" Elise cried in genuine surprise. "For you." "What did the man say?" she asked quickly. "Some caddish thing, of course. Men are so nasty. I didn’t have time to get the particulars before you and Mr. Rutledge followed us in here. But Ollie says it was just b-e-a-u-t-iful the way Mr. Rutledge dropped him—and he’s three times as big as Mr. Rutledge, too—" "We’ve tried moral suasion, strategy, force, every expedient," interrupted Hazard as he and Rutledge came back into the dining-room, "but the Scotch lass and her laddie positively decline to be fed by us. They are fully supplied by their own ravings—ho! don’t throw that salad at me!" "Here, take a dose of celery quick—a biblical pun like that is a too serious tax upon the simple Congressional brain," said Lola. Hazard looked foolish, and he felt like a fool; but what real manly lover outside the story-books was ever else than foolish when love’s fit was upon him?