He turned toward her, then, undisguised pleasure brightening his face: “How you always think of doing nice things for others!” he said. “Go, Sue. It’ll be a corking match.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. And, of course, I’d take Genevieve. One can’t help doing nice things for her. Isn’t she beautiful, Phil!” She said it earnestly.
“So beautiful that most of the girls aren’t especially kind to her,” Phil answered. “Just this morning Elizabeth Carlton had to throw out something—a nasty hint, you understand. It was about Valentine, that English chap who’s been at the club so much lately.”
“I really don’t know him,” returned Sue. “But I’ve heard——”
“Yes, and I’ll wager it’s all true,” went on Phil hotly. “He isn’t the sort of a man you’d like to see her marry.”
“Phil, you’ve fallen a victim, too,” said Sue gently.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Well, I told you you would.”
After that the conversation was still of Genevieve, until the gates of Arbor Lodge were passed again—of Genevieve, the queenly; Genevieve, the faultless; and (with a little embarrassment on Phil’s part) of Genevieve, the trampler of hearts.
“You’ll be at practice to-morrow morning, won’t you?” asked Sue, from the terrace steps. “Let me know when you can ride again. I hate going out alone.”