Late on that same gray but rainless November afternoon, Ada, herself, spoke of this elaborate difference between them. “I don’t see why _you_ worry, Lily,” she said. “I believe you could get away with anything! You’re the kind that can.” “Oh, not _this_!” Lily protested, in a wailing whisper. No one was near them; but in her trouble she seemed to fear the garrulity of even the old forest trees of the park through which the two were taking an autumnal stroll. “Nobody in the world could get out of such a miserable state of things as I’ve got myself into _now_, Ada.” But this was by no means Miss Corey’s first experience of her friend’s confidences of despair. “I wouldn’t bother about it at all, if I were you, Lily,” she said, cheerfully. “I wouldn’t give it a thought.” “You wouldn’t?” Lily cried, feebly, and her incredulity was further expressed by her feet, which refused to bear her onward in so amazed a condition. She halted, facing her companion in a stricken manner. “You wouldn’t give it a thought? When I’ve just told you that this time it’s _three_!” “No,” Ada returned, stoutly. “I wouldn’t. If I were _you_, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t even if it were four!” Lily moaned, and in a hopeless appeal for a higher witness to such folly, cast her eyes to heaven—or at least to as much of the dimming sky as roofed over the tattered brown foliage above her. “You wouldn’t give it a thought! Not even if there were four of ’em.” Then, as the woodland spot where they had stopped was somewhat secluded and apart from the main-travelled roads of the park, Lily felt at liberty to lean against a tree and apply a hand to her forehead in an excellent gesture of anguish. “I’m a goner this time, Ada,” she murmured. “I’m a goner!” “You aren’t anything of the kind,” Miss Corey assured her. “I tell you it’s not worth bothering about.” “Oh!” Lily uttered a sound of indignation, dropped the dramatic little hand, and spoke sharply. “You stand there, Ada Corey, and tell me that if such a thing happened to you, you wouldn’t give it a thought?” “I didn’t say that.” “You did! You just said——” “No; I said if I were _you_,” Ada explained. “A thing like this wouldn’t happen to me.” “Why wouldn’t it? It might happen to anybody,” Lily returned, quickly. “Suppose it did happen to you? Do you mean to tell me that if three separate, individual men all pretty nearly considered themselves practically almost engaged to be married to you at the same time, you wouldn’t give it a thought? You wouldn’t bother about it at _all_?” “I said I wouldn’t if I were _you_,” Ada insisted. “Why wouldn’t you?” “For just the reason I told you. Because you’re the kind that can get away with anything.” “But I can’t!” Lily cried. “I’m _always_ in some sort of miserable mess or other.”