She looked at him queerly. "Maybe not."
"Connie might, I suppose."
"Connie," she contradicted promptly, "will probably marry a genius, or a rascal, or a millionaire."
He looked dazed at that.
She leaned forward a little. "Carol might."
"Carol—"
"She might." She watched him narrowly, a smile in her eyes.
"Carol's too worldly."
"You don't believe that."
"No, not really. Carol—she—why, you know when I think of it, Carol wouldn't be half bad for a minister's wife. She has a sense of humor, that is very important. She's generous, she's patient, she's unselfish, a good mixer,—some of the ladies might think her complexion wasn't real, but—Grace, Carol wouldn't be half bad!"