“I do� . Because you call her ‘Lois’ so readily — and you came near it the first day you had apparently set eyes on her. Also, she calls you ‘Euan’ with a tripping lack of hesitation — even with a certain natural tenderness —

I turned on her, exasperated:

“Come,” said I, controlling my temper with difficulty,. “I am tired of playing butt to your silly arrows.”

“Oh, how you squirm, Euan! Cupid and I are shooting you full as a porcupine!”

“If Cupid is truly shooting,” said I with malice, “you had best hunt cover, Lana. For I think already a spent shaft or two has bruised you, flying at hazard from his bow.”