"No," said Joan, "I can't deny that there's—a sort of coincidence."
"Good-by forever! Good-by-yi-yi forever,'" warbled Betty after Tosti, somewhat infected by her friend's recent performances. "Fancy the Irresistible coming another cropper, and at the hands of a mere infant like you! I suppose I ought to be sorry for him, but I'm not. It'll teach him to keep his hands off my friends, anyway!" she exclaimed vindictively.
"I gather," murmured Joan with a pale smile, "that you did not altogether fancy me as an aunt?"
"Rather not! I prefer you 'as is.' Plenty of aunts in the world, and not so many Joans."
She went at last, leaving the heroine of the evening to a sleepless night.
CHAPTER XVIII
Morning did not bring the word from Eduard Desmond that Joan told herself must surely come; the explanation, the excuse, no matter how bald, which she might go through the form of accepting. Nor did the day following bring any message.
On the third day, however, came a basket of candy, a superlative affair of blue straw, tied with wide blue ribbons and quite realistic forget-me-nots. Within was the expected communication:
I never say the ugly word "good-by," if I can help it, Beautiful. Better to keep intact the memory of our last evening together.
From my heart I thank you for what you have given me. Such experiences do not come twice in a lifetime.—I have learned.
And you, sweetest of them all, what have you learned? At least to remember me, I hope! Eduard.