“I’m not joking—I’m in dead earnest. A poor girl has got to do the best she can for herself in this cold world. Well, I’m going to corral one of the three: old man Appleby, young man Appleby, or Curt Keefe.”
“Which one, for choice?” Maida still spoke lightly.
“You don’t think I’m in earnest, but I am. Well, I’d rather have young Sam. Next, I’d choose his father; and, lastly, I’m pretty sure I could nail Curtie Keefe.”
Maida couldn’t help her disapproval showing in her face, but she said: “It isn’t just the way I’d go about selecting a husband, but if it’s your way, all right. Can I help you?”
“Do you mean that?”
“Why, yes, if I can do anything practical.”
“Oh, you can! It’s only to keep off the grass, regarding young Sam.”
“You mean not to try to charm him myself?”
“Just about that. And I’ll tell you why I say this. It seems old Appleby has about made up his mind that you’re the right and proper mate for young Appleby. Oh, you needn’t draw yourself up in that haughty fashion—he’s good enough for you, Miss!”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” and Maida laughed in spite of herself at Genevieve’s manner. “But, truly, I don’t want him. You see I’m engaged to Mr. Allen.”