"Nonsense!" cry I, blushing furiously. "How can you say anything so untrue? I have known him this ever so long; he is quite an old friend."
"And a fast friend," says Bebe, laughing again at her own wit. "Having waited so long you do right to begin your campaign with a seasoned veteran."
"You must not say such things: if you do I shall rouse myself and assert my authority as a very dragon among chaperons; and then where will you and Captain Jenkins and Master Chips be?"
"No, don't," entreats Bebe, pretending to be frightened. "As you now are you are perfection: were you to change you would not be Phyllis Carrington at all. When I marry I intend taking you as an example, and so make myself dear to the hearts of all my spinster friends."
"And when will that be, Bebe?"
A shade crosses and darkens her face. For a moment she looks sad; then it disappears, and she laughs gayly.
"Never, probably. I don't get the chance. Generally when I pay my autumn visits, I live in a state of constant dread of being pounced upon by officious matrons, just as I am going in for an hour of thorough enjoyment with a man who has not a penny on earth besides his pay. But here it is different. You would never pounce, my Phyllis, would you? You would make a delightful clitter-clatter, with those little high-heeled shoes of yours, long before you turned the corner; there is nothing mean or prowling about you. Phyllis, is all that hair really your own? I won't believe it till I see it. Let me pull it down, and do it up again for you in a new style, will you? I am tremendously good at hair-dressing, really. Harry says I am better than her French maid. When all trades fail, and I am a lonely old maid, I shall bind myself to a barber."
With this she pulls my hair all about my shoulders, and makes me endure untold tortures for at least three-quarters of an hour.
----
Meantime Dora is improving the shining hours with Sir George Ashurst. She is making very fast and likely running, that looks as if it meant to make the altar-rails its goal.