“Living in a flat of her own with another woman. She is great on her independence, mossoo. Fine spirit, no doubt, but—er—just a little dull for me sometimes.”
“She is young,” I urged, for I seemed to see only Miss Kerry's side of the argument. “And you, General—”
“Am old,” he said. “Hang it, she doesn't let me forget that.”
Evidently, I thought, my neighbor was feeling out of sorts, or he would never show so little appreciation of his charming niece. I must take up my arms on behalf of maligned virtue.
“I am certain she regards you with a deep though possibly not a demonstrative affection,” I declared. “She does not know how to express it; that is all. She is love inarticulate, General!”
“It hasn't taken you long to find that out,” said he; but observing the confusion into which, I fear, this threw me, he hastened to add, with a graver air: “Young women, mossoo, and young men too, for the matter of that, have to get tired of 'emselves before they waste much affection on any one else.”
I protested so warmly that the General's smile became humorous again.
“You forget the grand passion!” I exclaimed. “Your niece is at the age of love.”
“Possibly a young man might—er—do the trick and that kind of thing,” he replied. “But I don't think Kate is very likely to fall in love at present—unless it's with one of her own notions.”
“Her own notions?” I asked.