"No need for you to be, altogether!" I continued.
"Now if I could institute a real big affair in the shape of a bucketshop swindle, in which your father and I could play the principal parts and you become merely a subordinate, such as a typist or something—what about that, eh?"
"It doesn't sound very amusing for me," she objected. "How much should we make?"
"Thousands," I assured her, "if it were properly engineered."
"I think," she said reflectively, "that father would be very glad of a few thousands just now. He says the market over here, for such little trifles as we have come across, is very restricted."
I groaned under my breath. In imagination I could see Mr. Parker bartering with some shady individual for Lady Enterdean's cameo brooch! I reverted to our previous subject of conversation.
"Eve," I went on, "I hate to seem tedious—but the question of our engagement still hangs fire."
"You persistent person!" she sighed, "Tell me, if I married you would all those people we met last night be nice to me?"
"Of course they would," I assured her. "They are only waiting for a word from you. I think they must have an idea already. I am not in the habit of giving dinner parties with a young lady as guest of honor."
She was thoughtful for a few moments, and her eyes lit up with reminiscent humor.