“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dott one evening a year or two ago,” he observed politely. “No doubt she has forgotten me, however, by this time.”
Gertrude shook her head.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I remember you very well, indeed. How do you do, Mr. Hungerford?”
The young gentleman announced that he was quite well. He made a move as if to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move on Miss Dott's part, he put his hand in his pocket instead.
“That evening—the evening of the college dance—is one of my pleasantest recollections,” he observed. “I made some delightful acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the names of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my failings.”
“He meets so many people,” cut in Serena, by way of apology.
Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all,” she declared. “He could not be so ungallant as that.”
“He didn't forget you, anyway,” declared Daniel. “He knew your photograph just as soon as he laid eyes on it.”
“Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was not referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. Hungerford has not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?”