had managed well so far, but she pressed me hard. Jerry was no
chattel to be bandied carelessly. I felt my body stiffening.

"Jerry is very sweet, Mr. Canby," she went on with that softness of
voice that I had grown to understand. "He does anything, everything
that I ask him to. It really is a great responsibility. Human judgment
is so fallible, especially a woman's. Suppose I asked him to become a
nihilist or President, or even both."

D--- the vixen. She was making game of me. But I struggled to hold my
temper, taking her literally.

"Nihilism? Political or moral, Miss Van Wyck? To one of your means,
the first would be inconvenient; to one of your affections, the other
dangerous."

She flashed a narrow glance at me. "_Touchee._ I like the thrust from
cover, but I can parry. Suppose that I said that I would relinquish
Jerry."

"I'm not sure that you can," I replied coolly.

Our glances met again. She knew that I read her.

"Nothing is impossible to intelligence. I could send him away
tomorrow, today--"

"But he would come back."

"You frighten me," she said, shuddering prettily.

"That is precisely what I wish to do," I went on stolidly.

"Threats!"

I shrugged. "You underestimate him, that's all."

"Perhaps. You know, Mr. Canby, that you improve vastly on
acquaintance. If you were younger--" She paused and looked at me
slantwise.

"Ingenuous, handsome, a fighting god--!"

I could have bitten out my tongue the moment I had spoken the words,
and the dark look she shot at me as she flashed around gave a measure
of her latent deviltry.

"Jerry told you that!" she said in tones half-suppressed.

"No."

"He did."

"No. But I know. I haven't watched for a month for nothing. I'm not a
child, Miss Van Wyck."

"What are you?" she taunted.

"A prophet. Jerry is no woman's plaything. Let him be. You don't know
him as I do. I warn you."

She suddenly went into a fit of laughter, meant to ruffle my dignity.

"Off with my head! If you knew how much you remind me of the _Queen_
in 'Alice in Wonderland'!"

"I'm sorry you won't take me seriously."

"I can't," she laughed again. "You're too absurd to be tragic."

"Perhaps we had better be going toward the house," I remarked.

She moved slowly along, her back eloquent of disdain. But she paused
for a moment to let me join her.

"You see? I've tried. You won't be friendly."

"My advice is friendly--"

"I never follow advice. We're enemies. It is