“Nonsense!” Phil exclaimed, with a laugh. “Can’t a man state a simple fact in natural history without being misunderstood?”
“Forgive me,” said Lucia, prettily. “I forgot that you were always interested in the deepest and most far-away side of everything. Here comes that stupid little Laybrough, who has my next waltz. I’m going to depend upon you to take me down to supper. By-by.”
A minute later, and Phil sobered again, for again Lucia was floating about the room with a man’s arm around her waist. Phil took refuge in philosophy, and wondered whether force of habit was sufficient to explain why a lot of modest girls, as all in Miss Dinon’s parlors undoubtedly were, could appear entirely at ease during so immodest a diversion. During the waltz he leaned against a door-casing: evidently some one was occupying a similar position on the other side, in the hall, for Phil distinctly heard a low voice saying,—
“Wouldn’t it be great if our charming hostess were to set her cap for that young fellow from the country?”
“Nonsense!” was the reply: “she’s too much the older to think of such a thing.”
“Not a bit of it. She’ll outlive any young girl in the room. Besides, where money calls, youth is never slow in responding.”
“They say he’s as good as engaged to Miss Tramlay,” said the first speaker.
“Indeed? Umph! Not a bad match. Has he got any money? I don’t believe Tramlay is more than holding his own.”
Phil felt his face flush as he moved away. He wanted to resent the remarks about his hostess, an implication that his friend Tramlay was other than rich, and, still more, that any young man could be led to the marriage-altar merely by money. If people were talking about him in such fashion he wished he might be out of sight. He would return at once to his hotel, had he not promised to take Lucia down to supper. He could at least hide himself, for a little while, in the gentlemen’s room up-stairs. Thither he went, hoping to be alone, but he found Marge, who had just come in, and who lost his self-possession for an instant when he recognized the well-dressed young man before him.
“Anybody here?” drawled Marge.