“He’s splendid.”
“He’s got his points.”
“I like him,” I said. “I’m damned fond of him.”
“I’m going to marry him,” Brett said. “Funny. I haven’t thought about him for a week.”
“Don’t you write him?”
“Not I. Never write letters.”
“I’ll bet he writes to you.”
“Rather. Damned good letters, too.”
“When are you going to get married?”
“How do I know? As soon as we can get the divorce. Michael’s trying to get his mother to put up for it.”