Eleanor experienced a delicious sense of forbidden joy as she sank on the soft cushions and looked back at the brilliantly lighted club-house. The knowledge that in many of those other cars parked along the roadway other couples were cozily twosing, and that not a girl among them but would have changed places with her, added materially to her enjoyment.
It was not that Harold Phipps was popular. She had to admit that he had more enemies than friends. But rumors of his wealth, his position, and his talent, together with his distinguished appearance, had made him the most sought after officer stationed at the camp. That he should have swooped down from his eagle flight with Uncle Ranny's sophisticated group to snatch her out of the pool of youthful minnows was a compliment she did not forget.
"Well," he said, lazily sinking into his corner of the car and observing her with satisfaction, "haven't you something pretty to say to me, after I've come all these miles to hear it?"
Eleanor laughed in embarrassment. It was much easier to say pretty things in letters than to say them face to face.
"There is one thing that I always have to say to you," she said, "and that's thank you. These orchids are perfectly sweet, and the candy that came yesterday——"
"Was also perfectly sweet? Come, Eleanor, let's skip the formalities. Were you or were you not glad to see me?"
"Why, of course I was."
"Well, you didn't look it. I am not used to having girls treat me as casually as you do. How much have you missed me?"
"Heaps. How's the play coming on?"
"Marvelously! We've worked out all the main difficulties, and I signed up this week with a manager."