“Patty, I do believe you’re fishing! And I know you’re talking nonsense! Dignified isn’t just the term I should apply to you,—but if there’s anybody more graceful than you are, I’ve yet to see her.”
“Oh, Roger, that’s dear of you. You know very well, I hate flattery or compliments, but when a real friend says a nice thing it does me good. And, truly, it’s the regret of my life, that I’m not about six inches taller. There, look at Zenobia now. She’s walking with that King Lear. Aren’t they a stunning couple?”
“Yes, they are. But if I were you, I wouldn’t be envious of other women’s attractions. You have quite enough of your own.”
“Never mind about me,” said Patty, suddenly realising that she was talking foolishly. “Let’s talk about Mona. She’s looking beautiful to-night, Roger.”
“She always does,” and Roger had a strange thrill in his voice, that struck a sympathetic chord in Patty’s heart.
“What about her, Roger? Isn’t she good to you?”
“Not very. She’s capricious, Patty; sometimes awfully kind, and then again she says things that cut deep. Patty, do you think she really cares for that Lansing man?”
“I don’t know, Roger. I can’t make Mona out at all, lately. She used to be so frank and open with me, and now she never talks confidences at all.”
“Well, I can’t understand her, either. But here comes Mr. Collins, looking for you, Patty. Is only half of this dance mine?”
“Yes, Roger. I had to chop up every one, to-night. You may have one after supper, if you like.”