"You make me very angry," she said; "I like you--I'm quite happy with you--and suddenly you try to tell me that my friendship is lavished on an unworthy man; that my taste is low, and that you're a kind of a social jackal--an upper servant---- "I feed on what the pack leaves--and I wash their fragile plates for them," he said lightly. "What else?" she asked, furious. "I take out the unfledged for a social airing; I exercise the mature; I smooth the plumage of the aged; I apply first aid to the socially injured; lick the hands that feed me, as in duty bound; tell my brother jackals which hands to lick and which to snap at; curl up and go to sleep in sunny boudoirs without being put out into the backyard; and give first-class vaudeville performances at a moment's notice, acting as manager, principals, chorus, prompter, and carpenter." He laughed so gaily into her unsmiling eyes that suddenly she lost control of herself and her fingers closed tight. "What are you saying!" she said, fiercely. "Are you telling me that this is the kind of a man I care enough for to write to--to think about--think about a great deal--care enough about to dine with in my own house when I denied myself to everybody else! Is that all you are after all? And am I finding my level by liking you?" He said, slowly: "I could have been anything--I could be yet--if you----" "If you are not anything for your own sake you will never be for anybody's!" she retorted.... "I refuse to believe that you are what you say, anyway. It hurts--it hurts----" "It only hurts me, Mrs. Leeds----" "It hurts _me!_ I _do_ like you. I was glad to see you--you don't know how glad. Your letters to me were--were interesting. _You_ have always been interesting, from the very first--more so than many men--more than most men. And now you admit to me what kind of a man you really are. If I believe it, what am I to think of myself? Can you tell me?" Flushed, exasperated by she knew not what, and more and more in earnest every moment, she leaned forward looking at him, her right hand tightening on the arm of the sofa, the other clenched over her twisted handkerchief. "I could stand anything!--my friendship for you could stand almost anything except what you pretend you are--and what other malicious tongues will say if you continue to repeat it!--And it _has_ been said already about you! Do you know that? People _do_ say that of you. People even say so to me--tell me you are worthless--warn me against--against----" "What?"