“Lulie, do you like Frank Paning? I do not, he tries to be so smart.”
“Why, yes,” she said, coloring a little, and biting the tip of her fan, “I do like him some; surely you don’t dislike him for being smart.”
“I don’t mean smart that way; but there’s another bigger reason than that: he is always with you when I want to be.”
“Well, that’s your fault,” she replied, looking at me archly. “I am sure if he comes to me first you can’t expect me to drive him away for you, can you?”
“But he’s been with you all to-night, and I have not had a chance to even talk with you a minute. I wanted to carry you to the supper, but of course he was ahead of me.”
“You ought to have asked me before he did.”
“Even if I had you would have preferred going with him, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh! I must not say, it might flatter you.”
“I wish,” I muttered savagely, “he was back in South Carolina, or wherever he came from.”
“I certainly do not,” she said, with some warmth; “I thought you and Frank were great friends.”