"Well, really!" exclaimed Valerie. "I must say!"
"Let no one think I'm not enjoying myself!" begged Mathilda. "Yule-tide, children, and all that! These old fashioned Christmases!"
Roydon said thoughtfully: "I know what you mean, of course. Personally, I believe profoundly in the influence of environment."
"'After which short speech,"' quoted Stephen, "'they all cheered."'
Joseph clapped his hands. "Now, now, now, that's quite enough! Who says radio?"
"Yes, let's!" begged Valerie. "The dance music will be on. Mr. Roydon, I just know you're a dancer!"
Willoughby disclaimed, but was borne off, not entirely unwillingly. He was a little dazzled by Valerie's beauty, and although a sane voice within him told him that her flattery was inane, he did not find it unpleasant. Paula was a more stimulating companion, but although she admired him, and had an intelligent appreciation of his work, she was apt to be exhausting, and (he sometimes thought) distinctly over-critical. So he went off with Valerie and Joseph, reflecting that even geniuses must have their moments of relaxation.
"I must say, I don't blame Uncle Nat for barring your intended, Stephen," said Paula fairly.
Stephen did not seem to mind this candid opinion of his taste. He strolled over to the fire, and lowered his long limbs into an armchair. "The perfect anodyne," he said. "By the way, I don't think your latest pick-up so bloody hot."
"Willoughby? Oh, I know, but he's got genius! I don't care about anything else. Besides, I'm not in love with him. But what you can see in that brainless doll beats me!"