“No.”
“You will, Elsie! You’ll let some other fellow take you to the pictures, and you won’t give me another thought.”
“Of course I shall, you silly! I shall always remember you—you’ve been awfully sweet to me.”
“Will you write to me?”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Promise.”
“Promises are like pie-crusts, made to be broken.”
“Yours wouldn’t be. I bet anything if you promised a chap something, you’d stick to it. Now wouldn’t you?”
“I daresay I should,” she murmured, flattered. “Mother says I’ve always been a terrible one for keeping to what I’ve once said. It’s the way I am, you know.”
No fleeting suspicion crossed her mind that this was anything but a true description of herself.