"And now"--again her splendid young arms were clasped, wing-like, behind her head; and its golden glory hung like a picture against the dark vine leaves, bossed with the clustered purple flowers--"now," she repeated, settling comfortably, "you must just go on and tell me the rest--I can bear it! What did my"--her big blue eyes twinkled as she smiled--"my father say about me?" I shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, I can't, you know!" I demurred. "I say, what's the use, dash it?" Poor old boy, somehow I just hated to round on him--he was so jolly hard hit already; Jack, don't you know! Besides-- "Please!" Jove, how she said it! "Oh, dash it, I'm afraid it will hurt you," I protested uneasily; "and I don't think the judge really--" "I just don't care _that_"--a snap from her little fingers and her arm went back--"for anything _he_ ever said about me that was _mean_! So, please go on--I must go dress for luncheon." And so I just took a deep breath, a long running leap, and cleared the bar--told her all, you know! Oddly, this time she didn't laugh--and I knew why: it was her father, and it had cut her to the heart. This was what I had feared. As I proceeded, narrating the interview in the library, she just grew rosier and rosier red, but sat looking at me wide-eyed and unflinching. The pulsation of her bosom quickened a little, but her dear face remained unchanged, save for her little trick of dragging her under-lip through her white teeth. "And, by Jove, that's all!" I finished with relief as I mopped my face. "But who cares, don't you know, or believes any bit of it? Anyhow, _we_ don't--for we know!" "Are you _sure_?" She spoke gravely, yet in her eyes were the dancing star-motes of a laugh. "The extravagance, the gambling, and the--oh, all of it? I must tell you _I_ heard some sad things myself about Francis Billings while I was at Cambridge--" I grunted scornfully. "_I_ know: from that two-faced cat, Miss Kirkland! Say, how I wish, by Jove, that woman would pack up and go back to China--the _sponge_!" And I screwed my glass indignantly. "Oh, now!" she remonstrated sweetly, "you mustn't say _that_! You might be sorry!" She smiled archly. I grunted contemptuously. Again she rested her little chin upon her hand, eying me thoughtfully, earnestly. "And so you don't believe any of it?" I chuckled at the idea. "Oh, I say now, Frances, you _know_ I don't!" And I shoved a bit nearer, looking into her eyes. But just then I saw Wilkes come out and look around. And _she_ must have glanced about quickly and have seen him, too, for as I shifted my eyes to her again she was blushing furiously and had moved a bit. "I'm afraid," she said measuredly, her chin lifting a little, "you do believe--_part_ of it!" And in her eyes was a glint of fire. And then as my face fell blankly, a slow little smile came creeping back to hers. Her eyes softened. "Forgive me," she said gently; "I misunderstood!"