For the first time Edgar showed signs of embarrassed exasperation.
"She's idiotic!" he muttered.
"The older generation," calmly explained Claudia. "That's what that is. You'd admit that I'm much more realistic. I'm not by any means sure that Patricia's ... well, eager to attract you. She ought to be, because you're the best man she's ever likely to meet. But you can't tell. When a girl's conceited, she tries this man and that until she's afraid of missing the train altogether. And then she plunges, and ... well!"
"Claudia, you make me uncomfortable by your profundity," said Edgar, respectfully.
She bowed to him across the table.
"Mother says I'm an enfant terrible. I have already told her that I'm a child of my generation. In some ways I know much more than you do, Edgar."
"In all, my dear. In all," was his modest rejoinder. "You also talk more. But I hope you will save Patricia."
"If I don't, nobody can," said Claudia. "But she may have to have a ... Well, we'll see. I was going to say she might have to burn her fingers. I wonder how you'd like that. Not much, I expect. Edgar, there's something I want to ask you...."