"Is it?" asked Miss Emerson, with a significant smile.
"Dinner talk I mean," explained Pendleton. "Occasionally we strike deeper—then it's something else than bubbles."
"How do you distinguish?" Burgoyne asked.
"Most people don't, my friend—hence the bubbles."
"Precisely—you're one of the don'ts," said Pendleton.
"Which being the case, let us change to something more entertaining than bubbles," Burgoyne retorted. "I'll take Miss Emerson, and you amuse yourself for a space with your left-hand opponent."
* * * * * * * * * * *
"What do you think of Miss Emerson?" Pendleton asked when, several hours later, he and Burgoyne sat smoking on the terrace.
"I should say she is a thoroughbred—if it were not for her parents. She has all the characteristics of the well-born—except that she isn't. It must be a sore trial to the girl always to have mother and father to contend against."