"No, you didn't say it--but there _was_ a fight, and it was about me--something that he or Murchison said in your hearing, and which you resented.--Wasn't it, Montague?" "You're very knowing!" he smiled. "I don't ask you _what_ it was--but _if_ it was?" she persisted. "Something of that sort," he admitted--"though the--ostensible dispute was over the cut of Porshinger's coat, as I recall it. Your name was not mentioned." "But _they_ understood?" "It seems so." "Tell me about it, Montague," she begged--"the fight and all." "It doesn't tell well," he objected. "Tell it anyway!" "It was just a scrap between us, nothing more." "But I want to hear it--you did it for me, so why shouldn't you tell me?" He looked down into the soft eyes upturned to him--and yielded. "It was this way," he said.... "It was foolish, I suppose," he ended, "but one doesn't always stop to consider under some provocation. I never for an instant thought it would involve _you_ in his spite. I didn't credit him with being so small and mean." "And now I want you to promise me that you will take every precaution to guard yourself against him," she said. "Myself!" he exclaimed. "Yes, myself for the purpose of protecting you." "And for the purpose of protecting yourself also," she broke in. "I am persuaded that Porshinger means mischief." "What persuaded you?" he smiled. "The man himself." "You don't know him?" "I met him this morning." "At Criss-Cross--he was here?" "No--I met him on the Churchville road--while I was taking my early morning walk." "Had he the effrontery to address you?" "Very respectfully and very courteously--I did not resent it in the least.--You see," as he looked at her doubtfully, "I myself was trying something, Montague." "Trying to put salt on the tiger's tail?" he smiled. "After a fashion. I was reconnoitering--trying to find out his weak points." "Did you succeed?" "A little--he is like all men--fond of a pretty woman and--her figure." "Which you might very readily have inferred," Pendleton remarked. "No," said she. "Some men with his characteristics are totally indifferent to women. I found out also that he is sensitive about his personal appearance--he wants to look and act a gentleman--and that he will do much to be received by our set." "Do you consider such weakness very vulnerable?" he asked, amused. "Most undoubtedly--he will forego much to advance his social position." "And _you_ think of helping him on?" "Not that exactly," she reflected. "I think to use it to our advantage--though how I've not the least idea as yet." "I think you don't appreciate what manner of man Porshinger is, my dear," said he soothingly. "He is as cold as ice and as hard as armor-plate." "I inferred as much--and such men are usually easy to influence if they have a hobby. Porshinger's hobby--concealed though it be--is the social whirl. Let him but think that he's whirling and anything is possible."