from a busy day supposing that you were as anxious as I to get through the necessary business which brings you here. If you propose merely to be insufferable, to forget that we are not even acquaintances and will never be more than that, it would be best to end our conversation now."
The words came trippingly, heady with passion.
"Dear me," said Steele, still unruffled. "I had no idea it was a crime to tell a girl she was pretty. We'll brand it lèse majesté," and his broadening smile came back with the words. "I'll consider myself properly rebuked and we'll pass on to safer territory. You see, I'm no ladies' man at all. Miss Corliss. Shall we let it go at that and try a fresh beginning?"
She stood looking at him a bit doubtfully, frowning a little, not quite certain how to take him. Finally, the most sensible thing seeming to be to sit down again, she resumed her place.
"I'll be glad, as I told you, to answer any pertinent questions."
"Pertinent is good," laughed Steele. "Well, that's fair at that. No kidding goes, eh? Now we'll begin by getting your name straight. Trixie, isn't it? Trixie Corliss?"
"No," said Miss Corliss emphatically. "It is not. It is Beatrice Corliss."
"How old?" was the next question. Steele's head was a little to one side, he had the air of a man appraising the age of a horse he meant to buy.
"Is that necessary?" asked the girl coldly.
"Essential!" he cried warmly. "What I want is to
