[VII]
For a moment, embarrassed silence fell upon them. At least, Clancy knew that she was embarrassed, and she felt, from the slowly rising color on Randall's face, that he was also what the girls in Zenith—and other places—term "fussed." And when he spoke, it was haltingly.
"I hope—of course, Miss Deane—Mrs. Carey was joking. She didn't mean that I—" He paused helplessly.
"She didn't mean that you were so—fatally attractive?" asked Clancy, with wicked innocence. After all, she was beautiful, twenty, and talking to a young man whom she had met under circumstances that to a Zenither filled many of the requirements of romance. She forgot, with the adaptable memory of youth, her troubles. Flirtation was not a habit with Clancy Deane. It was an art.
"Oh, now, Miss Deane!" protested Randall.
"Then you haven't beguiled as many girls as Mrs. Carey says?" persisted Clancy.
"Why, I don't know any girls!" blurted Randall.
"Not any? Impossible!" said Clancy. "Is there anything the matter with you?"