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 "But Witty is too much the man of the world to be jealous about it," she purred.

"If Pussy hasn't the opportunity to sharpen her claws on a sofa or an ottoman, she doesn't mind a wicker-work chair."

"Witty, darling," said the lady, "I hate to find rudeness keeping company with real distinction of mind."

"Upon my word," expostulated Northcote, seeking to measure her depth, "I consider that rebuke to be much prettier than the one bestowed upon me."

"When, Mr. Northcote, did I rebuke you?"

"Did you not say I should amuse you enormously?"

"Is not that the only compliment a woman has the power to pay nowadays?"

"Yes, Noodle," said Mr. Whitcomb, laughing; "but don't you see how young he is, and therefore how serious? Who would call 'enormously amusing' a fitting compliment for one of the seven champions of Christendom? This is a devil of a fellow."

"I can roar you like any sucking dove," said the young man.

"How it would thrill one to hear you do it!" said the lady, enfolding him with large eyes.

"He is a man of destiny," said Mr. Whitcomb; "he carries a genie in his pocket."

"Oh!" said the lady, with clasped hands.

"One of these fine mornings he will stand the world on its head."

"O-o-o-o-h!" said the lady.

"And having done that," said Northcote, "this