"Läo telephoned just now that she would not come to the play to-night—Really, the caprices of these pretty women are quite intolerable, throwing one over at a moment's notice—masses of selfishness and conceit."
"Yes,—aren't they?" languidly.
This did not sound a lover's disappointment, but perhaps he was prepared for her news, and Läo's proposed absence was what caused his depression.
"What excuse has she given you?"
He looked surprised.
"None. I did not know that she had chucked; did she give any reason?"
"Some nonsense about a friend of her mother's having turned up. I was so annoyed that I put the receiver down."
"You must console me, carina," and he leaned forward and took his aunt's fat hand. "Läo would never be missed if a man might count upon you for his partner."
"Flatterer!" but she smiled complacently. "The Colvins can both talk to Tom Hawthorne then. I had intended Henry Colvin to be my portion; he is a bright creature, and distracted me at dinner last week—but I am tired, and I always prefer you, G. Ah! if you had only been my son!"
"It would have destroyed the happiest of relationships in the world—and you know it. A son you could overscold—a mother I could overrespect—Let us thank Heaven for the charming courtesy tie that we enjoy."