"It all sounds splendid. I don't fall in love myself, as I've told you—"
"Oh, I know that very well," said Billy. "Nobody knows it better."
Her eyes danced as she shook her head at him demurely. "But I like to see young people settling down happily."
"You are rather a queer girl in that way, Doris. Never feel that way?"
The Nun considered. "I might go so far as to admit that I've an ideal."
"Rather a silly thing to have in this world, isn't it?"
"Happiness makes you unsympathetic, Billy. There's no harm in an ideal if you're careful to keep it as an ideal. Of course if you try to make it practical there are awful risks."
"And what, or who, is your ideal?"
"'Pray what is that to you?'" the Nun quoted, under the circumstances rather maliciously. "I find having an ideal a most comfortable arrangement. It doesn't worry either him or me—and Sally can't possibly object to it. How are things at Meriton? Andy wrote me his great news, and of course I never answered. But isn't it splendid?"
"I haven't had time to go down lately."