(Probably going to marry Holloway!)
“Now, I think it’s too bad, when there are so many simple, sweet girls in the world, that men seem to adore those that flirt like dear Cousin Betty. I don’t approve of flirting anyway. I wouldn’t flirt for anything. I don’t want to break men’s hearts.”
“That’s awfully good of you,” Jack said, looking eagerly to where Holloway and Mrs. Rosscott stood together.
“Oh, no it isn’t,” said Miss Lorne, “I don’t take any credit for it—I was born so. Dear Betty was a regular flirt when she was ever so small, but I never was. I’m sincere and I can’t take any credit for it. I was born so.”
Holloway was talking and Mrs. Rosscott’s eyes were uplifted to his. Jack was sure there was adoration in them. He knew Holloway was in love with her. How could he be a man and help it. Oh, it was damnable—unbearable.
He stood up suddenly. He couldn’t help it. He was crazed, maddened, choked, stifled. The fates must intervene and rescue his reason or else—
There was a blessed sound—the announcing of dinner.
Later there was music in the great white salon where the organ was. Maude Lome sang, and the man with the monocle accompanied her on the organ. Mrs. Rosscott sat on a divan between Holloway and General Jiggs. Jack was left out in the cold.
(Surely in love with Holloway!)