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 that 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?”
