"Dear, beautiful young creature, what a lovely neck! However, I didn't dress an hour earlier, and rush over here, to discuss necks, and bodies; I've come to break it to you gently, that I'm thinking of settling down at last."
"You mean getting married?"
"Yes. Giving up little suppers in Soho, racing, and gambling,—and turning over a new leaf."
"And who is to be the happiest of men?"
"I should think you might easily guess."
"Not so easily,—you have such crowds of men friends. Is it Colonel Deloraine?"
"Is it my grandfather!" she scoffed. "No! a thousand times no! Well, I won't keep you on tenterhooks,—it's Derek Mayne! You know him." A slight pause, and a quick glance. "I say! Nancy, why do you look so funny, and surprised?—I'm not poaching on your preserves, I know!"
"I'm not looking funny or surprised," she managed to protest, and Josie was too much wrapped up in her subject, too anxious to talk, to notice that she was more or less confused.
"He is such a dear fellow, straight as a die! one of the living best; not very emotional, you know,—keeps his feelings to himself, hates spooning, and all that sort of thing! Remember long ago, when I kissed him under the mistletoe,—he didn't like it a little bit!"
"Did he not?" said Nancy, who was carefully collecting hairpins. "I'm rather surprised at that."