“Then, if not to smoke and not to drink are country virtues, pray introduce them into city life,” was Cherokee’s answer.
“Ah, no indeed, I would never take the liberty of reversing the order of things, for they just suit me,” and Miss Baxter’s bright eyes twinkled under drooping lashes. As she smiled she raised a glass of wine to her lips, kissed the brim, and gave it to Willard Frost with an indescribably graceful swaying gesture of her whole form.
“Here’s to your pastoral sweetheart, the sorceress, sovereign of the South.”
“‘Here’s to your pastoral sweetheart, the sorceress, sovereign of the South.’” Page 40.
He seized the glass eagerly, drank, and returned it with a profound salutation.
The consummate worldlings were surprised to hear Miss Bell answer:
“Thank you, but how much more appropriate would be, ‘Here’s to a Fool in Spots!’”
Willard replied, with a shake of the head:
“Ah, no, you have too much ‘snap’ to be called a fool in any sense, besides, you only need being disciplined—you’ll be enjoying life by and by. When I first met our friend Milburn he was saying the same thing, but where is he now?——”