"Why, Clo, how strange you look! 'Tis only that I know James to be in love with—you!"
Cleone sank back. She started to laugh from sheer relief.
"I do not see that it is funny," said Jennifer, hurt.
"No, no, dear! It—it is not that—I mean, of course, of course, I knew that James was—was—fond of me."
"Did you? Oh—oh, are you going to marry him?" Jennifer's voice squeaked with excitement.
"Jenny, you ask such dreadful questions! No, I am not."
"But—but he loves you, Clo! Don't you love him?"
"Not like that. James only thinks he loves me. He's too young. I—Tell me about your dress, dear!"
"For the ball?" Jennifer sat up, nothing loth. "'Tis of white silk—"
"Sir Deryk Brenderby!"