Paul hesitated; he took another bun. "I imagine it's all right."
"Do you only 'imagine'—with a thing of that value? What have you done with it?"
Again the young man faltered. "I've given it to Miss Armiger. She was afraid I'd lose it."
"And you were not afraid she would?" his mother cried.
"Not a bit. She's to give it back to me on this spot. She wants me too much to succeed."
Mrs. Beever was silent a little. "And how much do you want her to?"
Paul looked blank. "In what?"
"In making a fool of you." Mrs. Beever gathered herself. "Are you in love with Rose Armiger, Paul?"
He judiciously weighed the question. "Not in the least. I talk with her of nobody and nothing but Jean."
"And do you talk with Jean of nobody and nothing but Rose?"
Paul appeared to make an effort to remember. "I scarcely talk with her at all. We're such old friends that there's almost nothing to say."
