THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
"I'm not," said Peter. "She treats me like a dog." He slammed the screen door after him, and marched off in search of her.
"Do you think Peter is in love with Priscilla?" Mrs. Martin asked idly.
A slow red crept into Drake's face, and a look of utter surprise and consternation engraved itself there. "I don't know—I hadn't thought of it—of course, he must be."
Mrs. Martin turned and looked at him.
"It would be only natural, of course. She's such a dear."
"I suppose he's just the sort she would like—jolly and good-looking, and all that."
"I don't know. It's hard to tell just what is going on in that queer little head of hers. I'm constantly surprised at her good sense."
"You're modest."
"Oh, no! I came by mine through hard knocks, but hers is instinctive; and such a power of love as she has packed in her heart—it is alarming!"
"We'll hope Peter is worthy of it."
"I suppose every woman has it—this
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