Sir John, there’d be no Clarissas in the world.” She hesitated, then smiled audaciously. “Perhaps no Lanas either� . There! Go and court your sweetheart. For she gave me a look but now which boded ill for me or for any other maid or matron who dares lay finger on a single thrum of your rifle-shirt.”

“You are wrong,” said I. “She cares nothing for me in that manner.”

“What? How do you know, you astounding boy?”

“I know it well enough.”

Lana shot a swift and curious look straight across the room at Lois, who now did not seem to be aware of her.

“She is beautiful� and — not made of marble,” said Lana softly to herself.