"Whom do you want to see in Philadelphia,
Max?" she asked, smiling roguishly at him. She
held him always by presenting her happiest and most
joyous side, whether she felt it or not.
"Sue and Morton--and you, you dear girl, if
you'll come along."
"No; I'm not coming along. I'm too comfortable
where I am. Is this woman somebody you
haven't told me of, Max?" she persisted, looking
at him from under half-closed lids.
"Your somebodies are always thin air, little girl;
you know everything I have ever done in my whole
life," Max answered gravely. She had for the last
two weeks.
Lucy threw up her hands and laughed so loud and
cheerily that an habitue taking his morning constitutional
on the boardwalk below turned his head in
their direction. The two were at breakfast under
the awnings of Lucy's portico, Bones standing out
of range.
"You don't believe it?"
"Not one word of it, you fraud; nor do you.
You've forgotten one-half of all you've done and the
other half you wouldn't dare tell any woman. Come,
give me her name. Anybody Sue knows?"
"Nobody that anybody knows, Honest John."
Then he added as an after-thought, "Are you
sorry?" As he spoke he rose from his seat and stood
behind her chair looking down over her figure.
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