known it was something I couldn't help."

"I really don't see why you're so angry, Dick," she said, lifting candid
eyes. "I explained why we had gone in my note."

"I didn't read the note," said Dick wrath-fully. "A thousand notes
couldn't have explained it. I tore the note into little pieces."

Viviette rose. "If that's the way you treat me," she said, piqued, "I
have nothing more to say to you."

"It's the way you're treating me," he cried, with a clumsy man's awkward
attempt at gesture. "I know I'm not clever. I know I can't talk to you
as sweetly as other people; but I'm not a dog, and I deserve some
consideration. Perhaps, after all, I might have the brains to jest and
toss about words and shoot off epigrams. I'll try, if you like. Let us
see. Here. A man who entrusts his heart to a woman has a jade for his
banker. That's devilish smart, isn't it. Now then--there must be some
repartee to it. What is it?"

Viviette looked at him proudly, and moving in the direction of the
morning-room door, said with much dignity:

"That depends on the way in which the woman you are talking to has been
brought up. My repartee is--good morning."

Dick, suddenly repentant, checked her.

"No, Viviette. Don't go. I'm a brute and a fool. I didn't mean it.
Forgive me. I would rather go on the rack than hurt your little finger.