“Something of the sort—how did you guess?” asked Ryder surprised.
Shirley coughed to hide her embarrassment and replied indifferently.
“So many boys do that. Besides,” she added with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “I can hardly imagine that any woman would be the right one unless you selected her yourself!”
Ryder made no answer. He folded his arms and gazed at her. Who was this woman who knew him so well, who could read his inmost thoughts, who never made a mistake? After a silence he said:
“Do you know you say the strangest things?”
“Truth is strange,” replied Shirley carelessly. “I don't suppose you hear it very often.”
“Not in that form,” admitted Ryder.
Shirley had taken on to her lap some of the letters he had passed her, and was perusing them one after another.
“All these letters from Washington consulting you on politics and finance—they won't interest the world.”