launched at her from afar that day, a year before, they all dined at Saint-Germain, and she could remember how effective it had been then. The next moment she flirted out.
As soon as she had gone Mr. Flack moved nearer to Francie. "Now look here, you are not going back on me, are you?"
"Going back on you—what do you mean?"
"Ain't we together in this thing? Surely we are."
"Together—together?" Francie repeated, looking at him.
"Don't you remember what I said to you—in the clearest terms—before we went to Waterlow's, before our drive? I notified you that I should make use of the whole thing."
"Oh, yes, I understood—it was all for that. I told them so. I never denied it."
"You told them so?"
"When they were crying and going on. I told them I knew it—I told them I gave you the tip, as they say."
She felt Mr. Flack's eyes on her, strangely, as she spoke these words; then he was still nearer to her—he had taken her hand. "Ah, you're too sweet!" She disengaged her hand and in the effort she sprang up; but he, rising too, seemed to press always nearer—she had a sense (it was disagreeable) that he was demonstrative—so that she retreated a little before him. "They were all
