"You're not thinking of--flirting with him?" he asked, puzzled. "No--just trying to make him like me well enough to forego his revenge. If he foregoes me, he likely will forego you also--as a matter of policy." "My dear child!" smiled Pendleton. "I'm not concerned about his revenge--not in the least. He can't hurt me, and I don't see how he can hurt you--_if you let him alone_. The danger, with his kind, is in being nice to them and in having your motives misunderstood and misinterpreted. Since you have met him, you can be politely nice to him but--tell me about this meeting on the road," he said suddenly. "Did it seem to be premeditated on his part?" "I don't know--but I think not. He overtook me about a mile from the Overton stile--you know the place. He merely raised his hat and spoke casually--as one does in the country--and was passing; then held back; and I gave him leave, by my manner, to accompany me--which he did as far as the Criss-Cross gates." "Were you going or returning?" "Going--we returned by the path through the Overton property." "Why do you smile?" he asked. "At something that happened--not with him, you foolish boy, not with him--with the Overton bull." "The what?" Pendleton exclaimed. "The Overton bull--he assisted me over the fence." "You don't mean it?" he cried. "If you had seen me going over you would think that I meant it!" she laughed. "However, I'm quite satisfied that you didn't--there was altogether too generous a display of silk hosiery and lace." "You prefer that Porshinger should see.--What was the bounder doing?--why didn't he protect you?" he demanded. "He couldn't--he tried to protect me, but the bull avoided him and made for me." "He is a bull of sense," said Pendleton. "I compliment him on his discrimination." "But you can't say so much for me?" she smiled. "You need some one to look after you, dear--some one on whom you can depend----" "A matador?" she suggested. "Very effective so far as the bull is concerned--but not the sort you seem to require." "You mean something that will keep off undesirable acquaintances." "Precisely." "What would you suggest--measles or smallpox?" "I would suggest a husband." She shrugged her bare shoulders. "You forget that I already have a husband--a Mr. Lorraine," she replied. "That is precisely why I suggest the need for another." "One can't have two husbands, Montague." "Not at the same time--and be lawful," he answered. "Do you mean that I should try another--Amherst?" she asked. He held up his hands. "God forbid!" he replied. "I mean 'according to God's own ordinances,' and so forth." "Who would have _me_?" she said bitterly. He leaned a bit forward and looked at her intently. "I'm a tainted thing--amusing, good to look at, to chat with, to while away the time with, like the high class _demi-monde_; but for anything more--no! no!" "You don't think that," he replied.--"You know----"