door closed after them
"I liked it when you really _sang_" replied Nan with a little yawn, "but it always took you such a time to get at it."
A short silence fell.
"Are you really going to sing at the Firemen’s Ball?" she asked curiously.
"I haven’t been asked yet," he reminded her. "Don’t you think it a good idea?"
"Oh, I don’t know," said Nan, but her voice had a little edge. Keith felt it, and made the usual masculine blunder. He stopped short, thunderstruck at a new idea.
"Why, Nan," he cried reproachfully, "I don’t believe you like her!"
"Like her!" she flashed back, her anger leaping to unreasonable proportions–"that old frump!"
No sooner had the door closed after them than Morrell’s conventional smile faded, and his countenance fell into its usual hard, cold impassivity.
"Well, what is the game there?" he demanded.
"There is no game," she replied indifferently.
"There is very little money there, I warn you," he persisted.
She turned on him with sudden fury.
"Oh, shut up!" she cried. "I know my own business!"
"And I know mine," he told her, slowly and dangerously. "And I warn you to go slow unless I give the word."
She stared at him a moment, and he stared back. Then, quite deliberately, she walked over to him until her breast almost touched him. Her eyes were half closed, and a little smile parted her full lips.
"Charley," she drawled wickedly, "I warn _you_ to go slow. And I warn you not to interfere with me–or I might interfere with you!"
Morrell shrugged his shoulders, and turned away with an assumption of indifference.
"Please yourself. But I can’t afford a scandal just now."
"_You_ can’t afford a _scandal!_" she cried, and laughed hardly.
"Not just now," he repeated.
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