“Naturally, I assumed—from your saying so much about your duty—I assumed your father had lost, or was about to lose, his money.”
“Mercy, no!” exclaimed she, brightening hopefully. “I meant my family—my social—duty.”
His expression was quizzical. “To be sure—to be sure. I never thought of that.”
“You see, we’re newcomers among fashionable people, while the Vanderkiefs—they’re right at the top of the heap.”
He nodded smilingly. “Of course—of course. A very sensible marriage.”
“But I’m not going to marry him,” cried she. “I never intended to.”
He forgot where he was for a moment in his astonishment. “Then why did you engage yourself to him?”
“It isn’t that kind of engagement,” she explained sweetly. “I did it because you acted so. But I was square with Peter. I warned him I didn’t love him and couldn’t. Our engagement is simply that he is having a chance to make me care for him if he can.”
“You’ll be married within six months,” said Roger lightly; and he lifted a glass of champagne to his lips.
“Not to him,” replied she. “If to anybody, to the man I love—the man who loves me.”