"Plain as a marlinespike, you mean. Only it isn't. I want to know two things. Do you think I'm a flirt? And why do you want me to murder poor, innocent Mr. Brinsley? Do you mind answering?"
Lawrence's dark eyes began to gleam angrily. He bit his pipe and pulled at it, though it had gone out; then he took it from his lips and answered deliberately.
"If you are a flirt, Miss Trehearne, I don't wish Brinsley any further damage. He'll do very well in your hands, I'm sure. I have no anxiety."
"I wouldn't hurt a fly," said Fanny. "If I liked the fly," she added.
"I believe the spider said something to the same effect, when he invited the fly into his parlour."
At this a dark flush rose in the girl s cheeks.
"You're rude, Mr. Lawrence," she said.
"I'm sorry, Miss Trehearne—but you're unkind, so you'll please to excuse me."
Instead of flushing, as she did, Lawrence turned slowly pale, as was his nature.
