"Prince!" repeated Regina ecstatically. "That reminds me of mine again."
"Oh, help!" exclaimed Violet. "I've reminded her of Mr. What's-his-name. Rex, if you'll promise to go ahead with your holiday doings, I'll let you tell us again how He came into the class-room first, and how He chose the best light, and how His sketches were always stunning, and how hard it was for you not to sketch Him instead of the model, and I'll let you show me the head you did of Him on the sly, and you shall tell us again how you plotted for an introduction and how you didn't get it, and—"
"Oh, hush up," said Regina good-naturedly. "How about that Mr. Fabian you met at the island? How about the careless elegance of his manners? How about that wonderful, heartrending, angelic voice in which he sang on moonlight sails?"
"Dear me!" said Violet, swinging her feet and smiling with mischievous eyes, "what a wonderful memory you have! I had forgotten all about him."
"It shows what a superior being he considers himself that he has allowed you to," retorted Regina, with curling lip; "after the way he behaved at the island—"
"I never said he behaved," interrupted Violet mildly.
"Well, he kept on asking you to go, every time they sailed, and gave you every reason to think he was friendly."
"That's summer friendship," returned Violet, but her cheeks took a deeper rose. The shoe pinched.