that of two evils,—his company or mine,—you chose mine."
Judith began to shake with suppressed laughter. Count Piloff leaned against the mantel, and looked at us both as if we were interesting studies of human nature.
"What are you laughing at, Judith?" I asked.
"Nothing, only—"
A look of responsive amusement flashed into the young man's eyes. "Perhaps your cousin used the same expression that I did about the two evils?" he interrogated Judith.
She burst into a peal of laughter, and I, feeling very red and foolish, was obliged to join her. At last she began to make apologies. "But you see—it was so funny! I will tell him, Dorris. He thinks we are so rude to laugh this way. Besides" (looking at George, who was perfectly grave), "you will not mind, I am sure, if I tell you. Dorris said—"
"Judith," I remonstrated, "this is childish!"
She paid no attention to me. "Dorris said that of two evils she chose the least, which was—Mr. Thurber."
We laughed no more. Judith was too much frightened, now that she had said it, and I was too vexed. I did not look at George, and for an instant he said nothing. Then in his ordinary manner he remarked, "I am disappointed: now Miss Romilly will always think that I have no feeling. I must run away and hide my diminished head," he added, taking his hat from the table.
