"I didn't ask you to call," I said, haughty as the Dowager herself was
when first I saw her in her gorgeous parlor, the Bishop's card in her
hand.
"No, I noticed that," he roared jovially. "You skinned out the front
door the moment you saw me. All that was left to me was to skin after."
"Why?"
"Why!" He slapped his leg as though he'd heard the best joke in the
world. "To renew our acquaintance, of course. To ask you if you
wouldn't like me to buy you a red coat and hat like the one you left
behind you that day over in Philadelphia, when you cut your visit so
short. To insist upon my privilege of relationship. To call that wink
you gave me in the hall that day, you little devil. Now, don't look at
me like that. I say, let's be friends; won't you?"
"Not for a red coat trimmed with chinchilla," I cried.
He got between me and the door.
"Prices gone up?" he inquired pleasantly. "Who's bulling the stock?"
"Never you mind, so long as his name isn't Ramsay."
"But why shouldn't his name be Ramsay?" he cooed.
"Just because it isn't. I'm expecting a friend. Hadn't you better go
home to Mrs. Dowager Diamonds?"
"Bully! Is that what you call her? No, I'll stay and meet your
friend."
"Better not."
"Oh, I'm not afraid. Does he know as much about you as I do?"
"More."
"About your weakness for other girls' coats?"
"Yes."
You do know it all, don't you? And yet you care for me, Maggie Monahan!
I retreated before him into the dining-room. What in the world to do
to get rid of him!
"I think you'd better go home, Mr. Ramsay," I said again, decidedly.
"If you don't, I'll have to call the janitor to put you out."
"Call, sweetheart. He'll put you out with me; for I'll tell him a
thing or two about you, and we'll go and find a better place than this.
Stock can't be quoted so high, after all, if this is the best
prospectus your friend can put up.... Why don't you call?"