“Patty! you’re horrid.” Aurora’s heavily lidded eyes opened wide. “I’m not romantic—not in the least—and I’m not an heiress——”
“Oh,” said Patricia.
“At least,” Aurora amended, “not in the modern sense. But it wouldn’t matter to Louis or to me if we—really had to work for our living. I’m so anxious to be of some use in the world. Oh, we’ve planned that already, haven’t we, Louis?”
“Yes,” said DeLaunay, crisply, with a glance of defiance in his eye for Patricia. “We have planned that.”
Patricia’s lips twisted, but she said nothing.
“I sometimes think, Patty,” went on Aurora, “that you’re a little unsympathetic. Won’t you really like to see us married?”
Patricia laughed. “Oh, yes—but not to each other.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too much in love, dear, for one thing. C’est si bourgeois—n’est-ce-pas, Baron? Things are arranged better in France?”
He shrugged his shoulders.