Nellie Pennington laughed up at the passing tree tops.
“How clever of you, Nina! You’re wasting your time single. A girl of your talents needs an atmosphere in which to display them.”
“And you suggest matrimony,” said Nina scornfully.
“There’s always your husband, you know.”
“But Larry isn’t an atmosphere. He’s too tangible.”
“All men are. It’s their chief charm.”
“H-m. I’ve never thought so. I shouldn’t have wanted to marry Phil if he had been tangible.”
“Then suppose he had—er—accepted you?”
Nina shrugged and crossed her knees.
“I should probably have hated him cordially.”