“Yes, if he did not work so hard. Young men should not kill themselves with labor.”
“Your Nolan is handsomer, perhaps,” said Sally pleasantly.
The next day Timothy did meet them for luncheon, after keeping them waiting for twenty minutes, and later they went for a fast ride out Point Loma. But that night he did not see them at all, though he told Eveley he thought she was rather rubbing it in, cheating him out of so many pleasant parties and good times.
“I may not want to marry her, but it is good sport chasing around,” he protested.
But Eveley was very stern. He had put himself in her hands, and he must obey without argument, and that settled it. And when he suggested that it would look better if he and Sally had one party by themselves without Nolan tagging at their heels, she frowned it down.
“One private party can spoil a whole week of hard work,” she decreed.
So the week passed. Once even Eveley pretended business, and Sally and Nolan had luncheon together, and a drive later in Eveley’s car. But Timothy put a stop to that.
“She is my fiancée. And I may have to marry her after all. And if I do, hanged if I want everybody in town thinking she was Nolan’s sweetheart to begin with.”
So Eveley waived that part of her plan, and the parties were always of three, and sometimes, but infrequently, of four. That Sally accepted their arrangements so easily, and took so much pleasure in their entertainment, argued well. One night she said:
“Of course, men have to work, but I shouldn’t like my husband to dig away like a servant, should you, Eveley?”