"We all do it," said Lucas.
"Oh, you don't!" She turned and gravely regarded him. "You are always wise," she said, "never headlong."
"Which only demonstrates your ignorance and the kindness of your heart," said Lucas. "But go on, won't you? What has Nap been doing?"
"Oh, nothing. Nap is all right. It isn't Nap I mind." Again that doleful droop of the lips became apparent, together with a little quiver of the voice undeniably piteous. "It—it's Bertie," whispered Dot. "I—I—it's very ridiculous, isn't it? I'm a wee bit afraid of Bertie, do you know?"
"St. Christopher!" said Lucas, in astonishment.
"Yes. But you won't ever tell him, will you?" she pleaded anxiously. "If—if he knew or guessed—all my prestige would be gone. I shouldn't be able to manage him at all. He—he is rather difficult to manage sometimes, don't you think?"
Lucas was frowning slightly. "I guess I can manage him," he said.
"No doubt you could. I expect you always have. He respects you," said
Dot, with unwitting wistfulness.
Lucas turned his head and looked at her very steadily. "Will you tell me something, Dot?" he said.
She nodded.