“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said, laughing, but reddening a little too. “Who said anything about getting married? I’ve got to settle down sometime, haven’t I?”
She shook her head dubiously. “You’re up to something: don’t tell me! Is she a nice gal?”
“Who? The future Mrs Bart? Oh, sure!” he said, grinning at her. “Don’t you think I’ve got good taste, Auntie?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “Not that it’s my affair, and when you come to think of it…” She left the sentence unfinished, and rubbed the tip of her nose reflectively.
“Come to think of what?” asked Bart.
“Nice gals,” said Clara.. “Look at that daughter-in-law of mine!”
“I don’t want to,” replied Bart frankly. “Cliff’s welcome to her.”
“Well, there it is,” said Clara, not very intelligibly. “She was a nice girl, and I daresay she’s a good wife.”
“Any time I want to go to bed with a cold compress, I’ll look around me for her double,” said Bart.
“That’s it,” said Clara vaguely. She stood looking at him in a puzzled way for a few moments, gave her head another shake, and walked off, leaving the conversation suspended in mid-air.