"Oh, it's only a pose with Carrington. He's really a good fellow."
"If he is, why can't he show that he is? My dear Rupert, I never did believe in those people, who have hearts of gold and bad manners: who lend you money with a blow, and with the best intentions bully you into cheerfulness."
"What odd things you say, Dorinda," murmured Rupert, not knowing if she was speaking in earnest or in fun. "Carrington hasn't bad manners unless his going away without seeing you----"
"No! No! That may be delicacy," she interrupted swiftly. "I dare say he's really a nice man, and I shall like him very much. But remember, dear, that knowing you has raised my standard. I shall expect him to be very, very nice."
"Oh, Dorinda, don't put me on a pedestal," said Hendle, at once dismayed and pleased. "I am a very prosaic person."
"Then I like prosaic persons."
"And Carrington is very brilliant," went on Rupert stolidly, as he tugged at his moustache to induce thoughts for his friend's defense.
"You are quite brilliant enough for me, my dear boy." She rose suddenly, and taking his face between her hands kissed him twice. "There and there. Why are you so exasperatingly modest?"
"Am I?" asked Rupert, wondering why he had received the caress.
Dorinda laughed. Indeed, she could do nothing else, since Hendle was so very literal in his acceptation of her remarks. "You're a sweet-tempered donkey, my dear," she said lightly. "Now you take those two vases and I'll take these two. Come along."