"No—Dev is the same innocent fusser he always was—coming down every year to the debutantes, as blithesome as a boy and as harmless. It's an avocation with him—when business hours are over. And it's astonishing how well he does both."
"Who is he fussing now—in particular?"
"Miss Emerson—he has been fussing her for two years—and she plays him well."
"Seriously, you think?"
"No one takes Devereux's attentions seriously—not even himself."
"Two years is a long time with our friend. He used to last a year at the most, then flit away to another bud. I didn't see her close but she looks at least fifteen years younger than he."
"About that, I fancy," said Pendleton. "Moreover, one can never judge what Devereux's actions mean—except that they don't mean what they would naturally imply."
"Do you think he is actually interested in the Emerson girl?" Burgoyne inquired.
"I don't know—I question if he himself knows—only it has been, for him, most unusual and lasting."
"How's the girl?"