"Good God! You call that unspotted! What are men made of?"
"You were in a bad atmosphere. Your lips caught phrases."
"Nonsense. I'm a crow, not a parrot; a thoroughly sooty bird."
"It was your whiteness that attracted—your morning freshness. You don't know what vulgarity is."
"You don't know what I am."
"I know you to your delicious finger-tips. And that's why I am sorry you told me so much. I wanted to ask Nelly O'Neill to marry me. Now she'll think I'm only asking Eileen O'Keeffe, the daughter of the Irish gentleman."
Her eyes filled with tears. "No, they both believe you capable of any folly. Besides, somebody would find out Nelly all the same." And a smile made a rainbow across her tears.
The arrival of the soup relaxed the tension of emotion. In mid-plate she suddenly put down her spoon and laughed softly.
"What is it?" he said, not without alarm at her transitions.
"Why, it would be one of those stock theatrical marriages, into which we entrap titles! Fascinated by a Serio-Comic, poor silly young man. She played her cards well, that Nelly. Ha! ha! ha! Who would dream of Plato's dialogues? And you talk of incredible!"