say she's perfectly perfect, but that she does play some———"
Alice laughed, as if at his sweet innocence. "Men are so funny!" she informed him. "Of course girls all do mean things sometimes. My own career's just one long brazen smirch of 'em! What I mean is, Mildred's perfectly perfect compared to the rest of us."
"I see," he said, and seemed to need a moment or two of thoughtfulness. Then he inquired, "What sort of treacherous things do you do?"
"I? Oh, the very worst kind! Most people bore me—particularly the men in this town—and I show it."
"But I shouldn't call that treacherous, exactly."
"Well, they do," Alice laughed. "It's made me a terribly unpopular character! I do a lot of things they hate. For instance, at a dance I'd a lot rather find some clever old woman and talk to her than dance with nine-tenths of these nonentities. I usually do it, too."
"But you danced as if you liked it—You danced better than any other girl I———"
"This flattery of yours doesn't quite turn my head, Mr. Russell," Alice interrupted. "Particularly since
