"No, indeed," she laughed. "You rise to heights of deception that would make anyone else giddy. Oh, I'd give anything to have heard."
"There's nothing to deceive about," said he.
She shook her head. "You can't put it over me, Fred. You've never before made a fool of yourself about a woman. I'd like to see her. I suppose I'd be amazed. I've observed that the women who do the most extraordinary things with men are the most ordinary sort of women."
"Not to the men," said he bitterly. "Not while they're doing it."
"Does she seem extraordinary to you still?"
He thrust his hands deep in his pockets. "What you heard is true. I'm letting everything slide—work—career—everything. I think of nothing else. Ursula, I'm mad about her—mad!"
She threw back her head, looked at him admiringly. Never had she so utterly worshiped this wonderful, powerful brother of hers. He was in love—really—madly in love—at last. So he was perfect! "How long do you think it will hold, Fred?" she said, all sympathy.
"God knows!"
"Yet—caring for her you can go on and marry another woman!"
He looked at his sister cynically. "You wouldn't have me marry her, would you?"