"I like Mr. Courtland, and why should I be coy?"
"Why, indeed? I wonder what the people who have just left us will say about it?"
"You coyness--or absence of coyness. Will they say that you threw yourself at his head?"
(As a matter of fact, as is already known, that is just what the majority of the guests did say about her.)
Phyllis reddened and seemed--for a moment or two--almost angry. Then she made a little gesture, expressive of indifference, as she cried:
"After all, what does it matter what they said? I don't care about them. It is for you I care, Ella--you, only you."
"Heavens! how seriously you say that!" cried Ella. "There's no cause for seriousness, I hope, even if you do care a great deal for me, which I know you do. If you said so much to a man,--say, Herbert Courtland,--it would be quite another matter. There would be sufficient cause for seriousness then. But you didn't say so much to him. He ran away before you could say it."
"Oh, Ella! please don't talk in that way. It is not like yourself to talk in that way."