“Well, I’d like to know who is after last night! Emma Budd is simply twittering. That great girl of hers is more dreadful than ever! It simply gets on my nerves. They’re all in such a state!”
“Except—” he blinked at her.
“I’m sure Mrs. Essington looks the worst of the lot.”
“Who mentioned Mrs. Essington?” His eyebrows were exclamation-points.
“Well, then who are you talking about? I do wish, Charlie, you would sometimes say what you mean!”
“Oh, why, so long as I, at least, mean what I say.”
“Oh, well, if you’re going to be hateful! You were horrid enough last night!” Cissy whined.
“It was with the best intentions,” he assured her.
“Of course! I’ve noticed if any one ever does a thoroughly stupid thing, it’s always with the best intentions! And your bundling that girl into the back seat with me, when I’d asked you, and was so counting on Mr. Longacre—when you promised—”
“Oh, why not promise?” His tone was gentle resignation, a wicked consciousness in his half-shut eyes.