'You shouldn't torture me.'

She opened and shut her fan,--as she looked down at it I amdisposed to suspect that she smiled.

'I am glad we have had this little explanation, because, ofcourse, you are my friend.'

'I am not your friend.'

'Pardon me, you are.'

'I say I'm not,--if I can't be something else, I'll be no friend.'

She went on,--calmly ignoring me,--playing with her fan.

'As it happens, I am, just now, in rather a delicate position, inwhich a friend is welcome.'

'What's the matter? Who's been worrying you,--your portlyher?'

'Well,--he has not,--as yet; but he may be soon.'

'What's in the wind?'

'Mr Lessingham.'

She dropped her voice,--and her eyes. For the moment I did notcatch her meaning.

'What?'

'Your friend, Mr Lessingham.'

'Excuse me, Miss Lindon, but I am by no means sure that anyone isentitled to call Mr Lessingham a friend of mine.'