“And he is most desperately in love with you.”
“That’s nonsense!” scoffed Nora. “He thinks he is. He ought to fall in love with you, Celeste. Every time you play the fourth ballade he looks as if he was ready to throw himself at your feet.”
“Pouf! For ten minutes?” Celeste laughed bravely. “He leaves me quickly enough when you begin to sing.”
“Glamour, glamour!”
“Well, I should not care for the article second-hand.”
The arrival of Harrigan put an end to this dangerous trend of conversation. He walked in tight proper pumps, and sat down. He was only hungry now; the zest for dining was gone.
“Don’t go sitting out in the night air, Nora,” he warned.
“I sha’n’t.”
“And don’t dance more than you ought to. Your mother would let you wear the soles off your shoes if she thought you were attracting attention. Don’t do it.”
“James, that is not true,” the mother protested.