"Oh, yes, Mr. Campbell," exclaimed Nancy, a flush spreading over her face. "I am ashamed that it ever happened. I'm sure I never meant him to think—I'm sure I can't understand his presuming—"
"Never mind, child. Men propose the world over without any more grounds than that. They are all alike, yellow skins and white ones, and red ones, too," said Miss Campbell.
"Don't be so hard on us, Madam," put in Mr. Buxton, seizing the lady's parasol by force and holding it firmly over her head. "It's not our fault if we fall victims to a pair of blue eyes. You notice I say 'victims.' One pair has many, I presume."
Billie and Nicholas brought up the procession which was now moving slowly toward the pavilion.
"It's queer that I just learned something about Yoritomo last night," said Nicholas, "and I was going to tell you to-day."
"What is it?" asked Billie.
"He's divorced. You know they get them here on the slightest provocation—just change their minds after a few months or years and go to court, and one morning a wife finds herself without a husband, or children either, if he wants to take them."
"How perfectly outrageous for him to propose to Nancy!" cried Billie.
"You don't know who his first wife was, do you, Nicholas?"
"No, I didn't hear."
"I think I do," said Billie, after a moment's pause.