“Some of them had—and some hadn’t,” said I. “Armitage has told me things about your friends that make me suspect they’re doing fully as much bluffing as we are.”
She winced, and sighed the sigh of the lady patient with a low husband. “Then you think I ought to go?” said she.
“I think you ought to do as you like,” said I. “I always have thought so. I always shall.”
“And,” continued she absently, “the society over there must be charming. Really, I need the education as much as Margot does. I do surprisingly well, considering what my early opportunities were.”
“I’ve never once heard you give yourself away,” said I.
“I’m not that stupid,” replied she. “But—a while in France—on the Continent—and in England perhaps——”
“How long would you be gone?” interrupted I, to show her that all this beating round Robin’s barn was superfluous.
She gave me a coquettish look: “How long could you spare me?”
“I can’t tell till I’ve tried,” said I, with a gallant smile—but with no move toward her. You women who would be wise, distrust the gallantry that is content with speech and look.
“You understand,” pursued she, “if I started this thing I’d put it through—no matter how much I missed you or how homesick I was over there.”