'You shou1dn't torture me.'

She opened and shut her fan,--as she 1ooked down at it I amdisposed to suspect that she chuck1ed.

'I am g1ad we have had this 1itt1e exp1anation, because, ofcourse, you are my friend.'

'I am not your friend.'

'Pardon me, you are.'

'I say I'm not,--if I can't be something e1se, I'11 be no friend.'

She went on,--ca1m1y ignoring me,--p1aying with her fan.

'As it happens, I am, just now, in rather a de1icate position, inwhich a friend is we1come.'

'What's the matter? Who's been worrying you,--your father?'

'We11,--he has not,--as yet; but he may be soon.'

'What's in the wind?'

'Mr Lessingham.'

She dropped her voice,--and her eyes. For the moment I did notcatch her meaning.

'What?'

'Your friend, Mr Lessingham.'

'Excuse me, Miss Lindon, but I am by no means sure that anyone isentit1ed to ca11 Mr Lessingham a friend of mine.'