She laughed gaily.
"I guess that's an original view of love."
"Why? My parents suffered from it: at least, I hope they did."
"Doubtful! Your Upper Ten is usually supposed to have cured marriage of it."
She bent her head over her plate, so that I strove in vain to read her eyes.
"Well, it's a beastly shame," I said. "Don't you think so, Miss Harper—Ethelberta? May I call you Ethelberta?"
"If it gives you any comfort," she said plumply.
"It gives me more than comfort," I rejoined.
A wild hope flamed in my breast. What if she loved me after all! I would speak the word. But no! If she did, I had won her love under a false glamour of nobility. Better, far better, to keep both my secrets in my own breast. Besides, had I not seen she was a flirt? I continued to call her Ethelberta, but that was all. When we rose from table I had not spoken; knowing that my friends would claim my society for the rest of the evening, I held out my hand in final farewell. She took it. Her own hand was hot. I clasped it for a moment, gazing into the wonderful blue eyes; then I let it go, and all was over.
"I do believe Teddy is hit!" Towers said when I came into our room, whither they had preceded me.