Betty barely glanced at them.
"You have just enough to give you a distinguished look," she
said, "and you are only forty. A man is in his prime at forty.
He never has any sense until he is forty--and sometimes he
doesn't seem to have any even then," she concluded impertinently.
My heart beat. Did Betty suspect? Was that last sentence meant
to inform me that she was aware of my secret folly, and laughed
at it?
"I came over to see what has gone wrong between you and Frank," I
said gravely.
Betty bit her lips.
"Nothing," she said.
"Betty," I said reproachfully, "I brought you up...or endeavored
to bring you up...to speak the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. Don't tell me I have failed. I'll give
you another chance. Have you quarreled with Frank?"
"No," said the maddening Betty, "HE quarreled with me. He went
away in a temper and I do not care if he never comes back!"
I shook my head.
"This won't do, Betty. As your old family friend I still claim
the right to scold you until you have a husband to do the
scolding. You mustn't torment Frank. He is too fine a fellow.
You must marry him, Betty."
"Must I?" said Betty, a dusky red flaming out on her cheek. She
turned her eyes on me in a most disconcerting fashion. "Do YOU
wish me to marry Frank, Stephen?"
Betty had a wretched habit of emphasizing pronouns in a fashion
calculated to rattle anybody.
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