'What has Marian been doing to you?''
'Nothing, except making a blithering ass of me. You know, I was fearfully keen on her, and I've passed up all sorts of fluff so as to do the decent; but when that brute Heckles-Jennings advised me to-night to be sure and sit out a dance with Marian because she was such hot stuff, he said . . . Of course, he's an outsider and all that, and I told him to go to hell—but you don't blame me for feeling cut up, do you, Elise?'
'Didn't you know she was that kind?'
'What kind?'
'Oh—the—the universal kisser—the complete osculator—the'——
'I say'——
'But surely you don't think you are the only one she has made a fool of?
To begin with, there's her husband in France—a brother-officer, Horace.'
Maynard wriggled uneasily, sliding down the chair in the movement until his knees were very near his chin.
'He's a rotter, Elise.'
'Do you know him?'