"I should have cared, if I had even once thought about it," says Mrs. Branscombe, cheerfully.
Whereupon he says,—
"Thank you!" in a voice that is all reproach.
Georgie colors. "I didn't mean what you think," she says, anxiously. "I didn't indeed."
"Well, it sounded exactly like it," says Mr. Kennedy, with careful gloom. "Of course it is not to be expected that you ever would think of me, but——I haven't seen you since that last night at Gowran, have I?"
"No."
"I think you might have told me then you were going to be married."
"I wasn't going to be married then," says Georgie, indignantly: "I hadn't a single idea of it. Never thought of it, until the next day."
"I quite thought you were going to marry me," says Mr. Kennedy, sadly; "I had quite made up my mind to it. I never"—forlornly—"imagined you as belonging to any other fellow. It isn't pleasant to find that one's pet doll is stuffed with sawdust, and yet—"
"I can't think what you are talking about," says Mrs. Branscombe, coldly, and with some fine disgust; she cannot help thinking that she must be the doll in question, and to be filled with sawdust sounds anything but dignified.