"No, it is well enough to have a friend's interest at heart, and you won't cut him off if you hear it—you are not that sort. I know you are clever and thoughtful, and all that, but you possess the forgiving spirit. Now, unlike some men, I judge people gently, don't come down on other men's failings. Who are we, any of us, that we shoud be hard on others?"
"Judge gently," she replied.
"I hope I always do that."
"If I only dared tell her now," said Frost to himself, "but it's not my affair."
He saw the feminine droop of her head, and the dainty curve of her beautiful arm.
"She is about to weep," he muttered.
Miss Baxter, who had been amusing herself with other revelers, turned to interrupt: "Mr. Frost, you haven't given him dead away?"
This, so recklessly spoken, only added to Cherokee's discomfort. A flush rose to her cheek. She asked, with partial scorn:
"Do you think he should have aroused my interest without satisfying it?"
"Please forgive him, he didn't intend to be so rude; besides, he would have told you had I not interrupted. It was thoughtless of you to make mention of it," she said, reproachfully, to the artist.
