eferred to his hasty purchase of Hester, or
to his rashness in dancing with her at her party the winter before.

"We have something left to be thankful for," he answered. "We are still
capable of action."

"On occasions it is violence," said Virginia, desperately. This man must
not get ahead of her.

"It is just as violent," said he, "as the repressed feeling which
prompts it."

This was a new kind of conversation to Virginia. Of all the young men
she knew, not one had ever ventured into anything of the sort. They were
either flippant, or sentimental, or both. She was at once flattered
and annoyed, flattered, because, as a woman, Stephen had conceded her
a mind. Many of the young men she knew had minds, but deemed that these
were wasted on women, whose language was generally supposed to be a kind
of childish twaddle. Even Jack Brinsmade rarely risked his dignity
and reputation at an intellectual tilt. This was one of Virginia's
grievances. She often argued with her father, and, if the truth were
told, had had more than one victory over Judge Whipple.

Virginia's annoyance came from the fact that she perceived in Stephen
a natural and merciless logic,--a faculty for getting at the bottom
of things. His brain did not seem to be thrown out of gear by local
magnetic influences,--by beauty, for instance. He did not lose his head,
as did some others she knew, at the approach of feminine charms. Here
was a grand subject, then, to try the mettle of any woman. One with
less mettle would have given it up. But Virginia thought it would be
delightful to bring this particular Yankee to his knees; and--and leave
him there.

"Mr. Brice," she said, "I have not spoken to you since the night of my
party. I believe we danced together."

"Yes, we did," said he, "and I called, but was unfortunate."

"You called?"

Ah, Virginia!

"They did not tell you!" cried Stephen.

Now Miss Carvel was complacency itself.

"Jackson is so careless with cards," said she, "and very often I do not
take the trouble to read them."

"I am sorry," said he, "as I wished for the opportunity to tell you how
much I enjoyed myself. I have found everybody in St. Louis very kind to
strangers."

Virginia was nearly disarmed. She remembered how, she had opposed his
coning. But honesty as well as something else prompted her to say: "It
was my father who invited you."

Stephen did not reveal the shock his vanity had received.

"At least you were good