"Like old days, isn't it?" she responded gaily. "You always were just one of our boys, you know,—in and out when you liked. We shall expect the same again."
"Will you? Don't you think I might come too often?"
Poor Nigel! He was in such desperate earnest; while Ethel, through her very delight at the return of her old friend, was brimming over with fun.
"I won't venture to say that! Anybody might come too often, perhaps. I'm a desperately busy person, and never have a moment to spare. But of course you'll pay us a polite call now and then?"
"Yes," Nigel answered seriously.
"And if I'm out, you can leave your card."
"Yes."
"A month or six weeks later somebody is sure to find time to return your call."
"Yes," was all Nigel could say. He knew that it was utterly absurd to take this bantering for anything beyond banter; but how could he help it?
Then a moment's pause, and Ethel looked at the clock.