"I am not very good at it," John sighed; "and there is so much I want to say that isn't nonsense."
"You ought to be thankful all your life that you have met me and that I am disposed to take an interest in you," Sophy remarked, as she moved her chair a little nearer to John's. "I am quite sure that in a very short time you would have become—well, almost a prig. Providence has selected me to work out your salvation."
"Providence has been very kind, then," John told her.
"I hope you mean it," she returned. "You ought to, if you only understood the importance of light-heartedness."
The lights were lowered a few minutes later, and John paid the bill.
"We've enjoyed our supper," Louise whispered, as they passed down the room. "The whole evening has been delightful!"
"May I drive you home alone?" he asked bluntly.
"I am afraid we can't desert Sophy," she replied, avoiding his eyes. "She nearly always goes home with me. You see, although she seems quite a frivolous little person, she is really very useful to me—keeps my accounts, and all that sort of thing."
"And does her best," Sophy joined in, "to protect you against your ruinously extravagant habits!"
Louise laughed. They were standing in the little hall, and the commissionnaire was blowing his whistle for a taxi.