Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward онлайн

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She smiled on Vance in the most tantalizing manner as she said this, and he well understood her meaning. He ground his teeth with impotent rage.

“If you liked it so well,” he panted, “you should not have screamed as you did.”

“That was an accident,” she declared. “Didn’t mean to do it, you know, but it slipped out.”

“By gum!” chuckled the youth from Vermont. “It don’t seem to me that Bart done anything so very bad. I think he was a purty gol-darn lucky feller!”

“I hardly think Mr. Merriwell, who is so rigid in regard to the deportment of the members of his company, can approve of the behavior of some of them,” said Vance, with something like a sneer.

At that Stella Stanley threw back her head and gave him a withering look.

“Is it possible you mean me by that?” she said.

“Not so much as Hodge,” mumbled the jealous actor, weakly.

“Not so much?”

“No.”

“But some?”

“Well, I was surprised to hear you confess that you liked the treatment you received from that low fellow.”

“Oh, you were!” came scornfully from the woman’s lips. “I understand you, Mr. Vance, and I do not like your language! Any insinuation against my character I will not stand! I see I have been wrong in thinking you a gentleman! I see I have made a mistake in permitting you to pay me some attentions! Now you are ready to presume on our friendliness.”