Dick stiffened. He was not used to speaking of his relations with Nancy to any one—even to Billy, who was the closest friend he had. They walked up Broadway in silence for a while, toward the cross-street which housed the university club which was their common objective.
“I know I ought to be,” Dick said, just as Billy was formulating an apology for his presumption, “or I ought to marry her out of hand. This watchful waiting’s entirely the wrong idea.”
“Why do we do it then?” Billy inquired pathetically.
“I wanted Nancy to sow her economic wild oats. I guess you felt the same way about Caroline.”
“Well, they’ve sowed ’em, haven’t they?”
“Not by a long shot. That’s the trouble,—they 97 don’t get any forrider, from our point of view. I thought it would be the best policy to stand by and let Nancy work it out. I thought her restaurant would either fail spectacularly in a month, or succeed brilliantly and she’d make over the executive end of it to somebody else. I never thought of her buckling down like this, and wearing herself out at it.”
“There’s a pretty keen edge on Caroline this summer.”
“I’m afraid Nancy’s in pretty deep,” Dick said. “The money end of it worries me as much as anything.”
“I wouldn’t let that worry me.”
“She won’t take any of mine, you know.”