"You'll be there?"
"I'm always there, too. We have no friends. It's not easy to make acquaintances in the East—congenial acquaintances."
"I'd want you to be there," he explained with great care, "because you could help him and me in getting acquainted."
"Oh, he'll talk freely—to anyone. He talks only the one subject. He never thinks of anything else."
She was resting her crossed arms on the back of her chair and, with her chin upon them, was looking at him—a childlike pose and a childlike expression. He said: "You are sure you are twenty?"
She smiled gayly. "Nearly twenty-one."
"Old enough to be in love."
She lifted her head and laughed. She had charming white teeth—small and sharp and with enough irregularity to carry out her general suggestion of variability. "Yes, I shall like that, when it comes," she said; "But the chances are against it just now."
"There's Tetlow."
She was much amused. "Oh, he's far too old and serious."