"You mean that he is frank?" asked Violet, with a perceptible indrawing of her own frankness.
"Well, that's a mild word for it," answered Phil. "I don't know Edgar's family crest, but the inscription should read, freely translated, 'I give myself away.'"
The speaker laughed at his own folly, and glanced up for sympathy. The baby bachelor's full lips were grave and her eyes a little dark.
"I like people to be frank," she said briefly.
Phil drew his own lips together in a noiseless whistle and his eyes twinkled at the Metropolitan Tower in the sketch.
"Keep off the grass," he mused. "I thought you said reserve fascinated you," he remarked aloud, mildly.
"One thing I don't like Mr. Fabian to reserve," said Violet, "and that is his voice."
"Great, isn't it?" agreed Phil. "I was glad he sang for us Christmas night."
"Oh, I supposed you had heard him many times. If he were my cousin I would give him no rest."
"He's not mine, you see. I'm only a step-relation, and such a long step!"