Between Friends

"What!" he exclaimed, his face reddening with pleasure at her

opinion, and with surprise at her mode of expressing it.

"It's quite true. That dancing figure is wholly charming. It is no

study; it is pure creation."

He knew it; was a little thrilled that she, representing to him an

average and mediocre public, should recognize it so intelligently.

"As though," she continued, "you had laid aside childish things."

"What?" he asked, surprised again at the authority of the

expression.

"Academic precision and the respectable excellencies

of-the-usual;--you have put away childish things and become a man."

"Where did you hear that?" he said bluntly.

"I heard it when I said it. You know, Mr. Drene, I am not wholly

uneducated, although your amiable question insinuates as much."

"I'm not unamiable. Only I didn't suppose--"

"Oh, you never have supposed anything concerning me. So why are you

surprised when I express myself with fragmentary intelligence?"

"I'm sorry--"

"Listen to me. I'm not afraid of you any more. I've been afraid

for two years. Now, I'm not. Your study is masterly. I know it. You

know it. You didn't know I knew it; you didn't know I knew anything.

And you didn't care."

She sat down on the sofa, facing him with a breathless smile.

"You don't care what I think, what I am, what interests I may have,

what intellect, what of human desire, hope, fear, ambition animates

me; do you? You don't care whether I am ignorant or educated, bad or

good, ill or well--as long as it does not affect my posing for you;

whether I am happy or unhappy, whether I--"

"For Heaven's sake--"

"But you don't care! . . . Do you?"

He was silent; he stood looking at her in a stupid sort of way.

After a moment or two she rose, picked up her hat, went to the glass

and pinned it on, then strolled slowly back, drawing on her gloves.

"It's five o'clock, you know, Drene."

"Yes, certainly."

"Do you want me to-morrow?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"You are not offended?"

He did not answer. She came up to him and repeated the question in

a childishly anxious voice that was a trifle too humble. And looking

down into her eyes he saw a gleam of pure mischief in them.

"You little villain!" he said; and caught her wrists. "A lot you

care whether I am offended!"