"Why?" Beatrice smoothed the dimple complacently with her finger-tips.
"Why? Oh, it would get kind of monotonous ,wouldn't it?"
"This from a man known chiefly for his pretty speeches!" Beatrice's
laugh had a faint tinge of chagrin.
"Wouldn't pretty speeches get monotonous, too?" Keith's eyes were
laughing at her.
"Yours wouldn't," she retorted, spitefully, and immediately bit her lip
and hoped he would not consider that a bid for more pretty speeches.
"Be'trice, dis hopper is awf-lly wilted!" came a sepulchral whisper from
Dorman.
Keith sighed, and went and baited the hook again. When he returned to
Beatrice, his mood had changed.
"I want you to promise--"
"I never make promises of any sort, Mr. Cameron." Beatrice had fallen
back upon her airy tone, which was her strongest weapon of
defense--unless one except her liquid-air smile.
"I wasn't thinking of asking much," Keith went on coolly. "I only
wanted to ask you not to worry about that leasing business."
"Are you worrying about it, Mr. Cameron?"
"That isn't the point. No, I can't say I expect to lose sleep over it. I
hope you will dismiss anything I may have said from your mind."
"But I don't understand. I feel that you blame Sir Redmond, when I'm
sure he--"
"I did not say I blamed anybody. I think we'll not discuss it.
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