“Do you think I'm like her? I made Oliver tell me about—myself this summer. That's why you needn't bother. It doesn't matter what happens to me, you see. And I don't care—because you can love me, without feeling bad about it. And you will, won't you?”
Then, with her eyes still on his face, she went on quickly:
“Only we won't talk about that now, will we? It's too cosy. I AM nice and tired. Do smoke!”
But Lennan's fingers trembled so that he could hardly light that cigarette. And, watching them, she said: “Please give me one. Dad doesn't like my smoking.”
The virtue of Johnny Dromore! Yes! It would always be by proxy! And he muttered:
“How do you think he would like to know about this afternoon, Nell?”
“I don't care.” Then peering up through the kitten's fur she murmured: “Oliver wants me to go to a dance on Saturday—it's for a charity. Shall I?”
“Of course; why not?”
“Will YOU come?”
“I?”