"The one that girl sang in the second act—very fine girl, too!"
His tone was jocosely significant, and although such humorous allusions did not really amuse her in the least, Lily eagerly caught at this one.
"I saw you look at her, Nicholas! She's rather your type, isn't she?"
"What do you mean by my type, madam, I should like to know? How do you know I've got a type, eh?"
He began to laugh spasmodically, and Lily's lips mechanically took on the curves of the amusement that she did not share.
"My type, indeed! Ha, ha!"
Lily's meaningless laughter echoed his genuine mirth. Then he began to hum:
"In Lou-is-ville—I've left my little home,
The folk I used to know
In Lou-is-ville—where—something—something—roam.