"You find her so?"
"Rather."
"She seems to have taken a fancy to you."
Harry actually grew red.
"Hardly," he said; but there was hope in the word.
"She is hardly your kind, Harry. You know that. You aren't
going in for this sort of thing?"
"This sort--I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do, Hal. You know exactly what I mean. To put the
thing plainly, Le Mire is a dangerous woman--none more so in all
the world; and, Harry boy, be sure you keep your head and watch
your step."
He stood for a moment looking at me in silence with a half-angry
frown, then opened his mouth as though to speak, and finally
turned, without a word, and started for the door. There he turned
again uncertainly, hesitating.
"I am to ride with Desiree in the morning," said he, and the next
moment was gone.
"Desiree!"
He called her Desiree!
I think I smiled for an hour over that; and, though my
reflections were not free from apprehension, I really felt but
little anxiety. Not that I underrated Le Mire's fascination and
power; to confess the truth, my ease of mind was the result of my
own vanity. Le Mire had flattered me into the belief that she was
my friend.
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