“No,” said Madison. “Not that I know of.”
“Well, I suppose you’d be the first to know! Yes-sir.” And both men laughed their appreciation of this folly. “They’re mighty good-looking girls, that’s certain,” continued Mr. Pryor. “And one of ’em’s as fine a dresser as you’ll meet this side the Rue de la Paix.”
“You mean in Paris?” asked Madison, slightly surprised at this allusion. “You’ve been over there, Pryor?”
“Oh, sometimes,” was the response. “My business takes me over, now and then. I think it’s one of your daughters I’ve noticed dresses so well. Isn’t one of ’em a mighty pretty girl about twenty-one or two, with a fine head of hair sort of lightish brown, beautiful figure, and carries a white parasol with a green lining sometimes?”
“Yes, that’s Cora, I guess.”
“Pretty name, too,” said Pryor approvingly. “Yes-sir. I saw her going into a florist’s, downtown, the other day, with a fine-looking young fellow—I can’t think of his name. Let’s see: my daughter was with me, and she’d heard his name—said his family used to be big people in this town and——”
“Oh,” said Madison, “young Corliss.”
“Corliss!” exclaimed Mr. Pryor, with satisfaction. “That’s it, Corliss. Well, sir,” he chuckled, “from the way he was looking at your Miss Cora it struck me he seemed kind of anxious for her name to be Corliss, too.”
“Well, hardly I expect,” said the other. “They just barely know each other: he’s only been here a few weeks; they haven’t had time to get much acquainted, you see.”
“I suppose not,” agreed Mr. Pryor, with perfect readiness. “I suppose not. I’ll bet he tries all he can to get acquainted though; he looked pretty smart to me. Doesn’t he come about as often as the law allows?”