"Of course you do. So do all women since the days of Eve."
"But you don't seem to believe me."
"You must n't jump at such hasty conclusions."
"Have you heard anything about me that would make you think I was deceitful?"
"I have never spoken of you to any one except your father."
"I can't understand you at all to-day. You 're so changeable and moody, and sometimes so ill-humored."
"What a dreadful afternoon you 've had! I 'm sorry." Then, with an abrupt change of tone: "Who picks up the leaves of the deodar and ties them up in those neat little bundles?"
"I do—do you believe me?" She spoke with a sharpness he had never heard her use before.
He broke out into sudden laughter that this time sounded genuine. Turning from the window, he came toward her and took her hand.
"Are you angry?" he asked. "I don't wonder. Say the most disagreeable things you can think of, and they won't be more than I deserve."
For the second time this afternoon she beamed over his restoration to good humor.
"I 'm not a very good person to quarrel with," she said, looking at him with soft, for-
