"He bores you," announced Valentia. "That's what's the matter. He doesn't amuse you."
"It isn't that, it isn't that!" cried Daphne vehemently. "I don't want to be amused. Do you think I like a man because he's clever, or funny, and always making jokes? That bores me frightfully. Harry's way of being lively and clever bores me to death! I don't want to marry a professional entertainer! No, Valentia, that's more the sort of thing you'd like. You're quite sorry Romer's not like that."
"I don't suggest that it would be ideal to marry Harry Lauder, Daphne dear. But wouldn't you really like someone fairly intelligent?"
"No. Why should I? Do you think I want to marry a man so horribly clever that he wouldn't understand a word I said?"
"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think you want?" Valentia answered herself; "It's Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed, commonplace, hard-up, handsome boy. You can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and has only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive regiment, and you, darling, will only have three hundred a year. I should love to see you happy in your own way and having your wish, but don't you think it's a childish fancy? You're both children. Of course he hasn't suggested marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well it's out of the question."
"Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me the day we were introduced—at Prince's, and he's been doing it ever since."
"Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow, you must wait and see. Even if he could afford it, I don't think it would be a success. Why, there's nothing in the boy! What do you see in him?"
"I like the way he laughs," said Daphne, after a pause.
"Do you mind telling me one thing straight out? I'm being very nice to you about this, dear. I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must treat me with complete confidence."
"Of course, of course, dear."