ard?"

He threw down the newspaper.

"Very likely. I shall have been looking at your lips."

CHAPTER XXV

THE QUARREL

"The other day," said Sylvia, "you were perfectly sweet to me. I was
really happy; I knew you loved me, and that was quite enough. Now again
I feel that miserable doubtfulness."

"May I ask," said Woodville, who was sitting in front of a pile of
papers, while Sylvia was leaning her head on her hand opposite him at
the table, "how it is that you're here again?"

He spoke in a tone that was carefully not affectionate and that he tried
not to make irritable.

"Certainly. I arranged to go out with Felicity--before papa--and then I
telephoned to her that I had a headache."

"Isn't that what you did on Thursday?"

"No; on Thursday I said I was going to the dentist. And came in here
instead."

"Do you intend to do this often?" he asked.

"Yes, continually."

He rustled the papers.

"Why shouldn't I? Don't you like it?" she said.

"I can't help thinking it's rather risky. Suppose Felicity comes and
finds you in blooming health?"

"Surely I can recover from my headache if I like? Besides, she
telephoned to me to get some aspirin. She won't expect me to be down
till this afternoon, and she won't come till then."

"_Did_ you get some?"

"Frank, what idiotic questions you ask!"

There was a pause.

"Don't you think, dear," she said, "this is very jolly, to arrange to
have two hours like this alone together?"

"Oh, delightful! But I don't see what's the good of it, as we're
placed."

"Not to have a nice quiet talk?"

"I have nothing to talk about." He seemed nervous.

"Are you going to be like this when we're married?" asked Sylvia in a
disappointed voice.

"Not at all!"

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad! If you'll excuse my saying so, Frank darling, you
seem to me to have a rather sulky disposition."

He seized the papers and threw them on the floor.

"Sulky? _I, sulky?_ You never made a greater mistake. You're not a good
judge of character, Sylvia. Don't go in for it. Leave it alone. You'll
never make anything of it, you haven't the gift. As it happens, I have a
very good temper, except that now and then I'm 'rather violent when
roused,' as the palmists say, but sulky--never!"

Sylvia seemed to have made up her mind to be irritating. She laughed a
good deal. (She looked most lovely when laughing.)

"What are you laughing at?" he asked.

"At you. Pretending to be violent, good-