"Oh, no," said Bobby, comfortably. "I've got the next with Andy Black. He'll never think to look up here. But are you quite sure I'm not getting on your nerves?"
"I am quite sure you are a most awfully charming girl," Percival exclaimed with sudden warmth. "As a matter of fact, I—I like you tremendously."
"That's nice," said Bobby, "because, you see, I like you!"
There was no reason why her avowal should have been regarded as more serious than his own. But he took alarm instantly.
"You won't mind my telling you a few things for your own good, will you?" he asked, taking refuge in the safe rôle of mentor.
"Not a bit," said Bobby; "fire away."
She listened for five minutes to his dissertation on the impropriety of young ladies playing poker in the smoking-room, then she became restive.
"Isn't it funny," she said by way of changing the subject, "that yesterday was Friday, and to-morrow is going to be Saturday, and to-day isn't anything?"
"But it is something. It's a day I shall remember."
Percival was drifting again, and he knew it, but there was that in the bewitching face upturned to his that demoralized him.