"Much?"

"A couple of plunks," etc.

Or,--

"Did Pussy catch you last night?"

"No! Never said a word."

"Who was the man you were walking with?"

"Oh, that little man with the glasses--he's a friend of Pussy's,
English."

Perhaps as follows,--

"Pussy is talking of our all going to India next winter."

"India;--what for?"

"She always wants to go some place."

"You aren't going to India?" (Lover's alarms.)

"Of course I shan't!"

One easily might undervalue Adelle's passion, however, if it were judged
solely by its intellectual quality. The beauty and the wonder of passion
is that it cannot be weighed by any mental scales, its terms are not
transferable. Adelle's share of the universal mystery, in spite of the
banality of its expression, may have been as great as any woman's who
ever lived. At least it filled her being and swept her to unexpected
heights of feeling and power.

She was completely happy at this time, but Archie after the first days
was restless and somewhat bored. There were long periods when he could
neither make love nor paint, and he took to spending his idle evenings
at the Casino, which was not good for his slender purse. As the weeks
passed and their ruses seemed successful, the two grew more reckless and
indulged in flying expeditions about the country roads in Adelle's
little car. One evening, as they were returning in the sunset glow from
a long jaunt down the coast, Adelle at the wheel and Archie's arm
encircling her waist, they came plump upon Irene Paul and Pussy Comstock
in a hired motor. Adelle stiffened and threw on high speed. They dashed
past in a whirl of dust, but the Paul girl's eyes met Adelle's. She felt
sure of Irene, and hoped that Pussy had not recognized them. But they
must be more careful in the future. If Pussy found out--well, they must
"do something." This time she shouldn't be deprived of Archie. Never!

Adelle dressed slowly, revolving in her mind what she should say to
Irene, who had called Archie a "bounder," and descended to the salon
where the family were waiting for her. Nothing was said until they were
seated at the dinner-table. Irene obstinately kept her eyes away and
Adelle felt troubled. Suddenly Miss Comstock, looking across the table
with her penetrating smile, asked sweetly,--"Don't you find it difficult
to drive as you were this afternoon, Adelle?"

Like all clumsy persons Adelle lied and lied badly. She had not been on
the road since s