"Going--we returned by the path through the Overton property."
"At something that happened--not with him, you foolish boy, not with him--with the Overton bull."
"The Overton bull--he assisted me over the fence."
"If you had seen me going over you would think that I meant it!" she laughed. "However, I'm quite satisfied that you didn't--there was altogether too generous a display of silk hosiery and lace."
"You prefer that Porshinger should see.--What was the bounder doing?--why didn't he protect you?" he demanded.
"He couldn't--he tried to protect me, but the bull avoided him and made for me."
"He is a bull of sense," said Pendleton. "I compliment him on his discrimination."
"But you can't say so much for me?" she smiled.
"You need some one to look after you, dear--some one on whom you can depend----"
"Very effective so far as the bull is concerned--but not the sort you seem to require."
"You mean something that will keep off undesirable acquaintances."
"What would you suggest--measles or smallpox?"
"You forget that I already have a husband--a Mr. Lorraine," she replied.
"That is precisely why I suggest the need for another."
"Not at the same time--and be lawful," he answered.
"Do you mean that I should try another--Amherst?" she asked.
"God forbid!" he replied. "I mean 'according to God's own ordinances,' and so forth."
"Who would have _me_?" she said bitterly.
He leaned a bit forward and looked at her intently.
"I'm a tainted thing--amusing, good to look at, to chat with, to while away the time with, like the high class _demi-monde_; but for anything more--no! no!"
"You don't think that," he replied.--"You know----"
"I know what the world says of a married woman who does as I have done. It may tolerate her but a man never marries her--or if he does the world punishes him by loss of caste."
He leaned closer, bending down until her hair brushed his face and its perfume rose about him like a cloud.
"I am ready to risk it, dear one," he whispered. "I am ready to marry you the moment you are free."
"You are ready to marry me?" she breathed. "No! no! Montague, I was not playing for that, I was not----"
"Stephanie, dearest, don't you love me?" he asked.
She looked at him steadily an instant--then over her face broke the entrancing smile, and she put up her arm and drew his face close to hers.