"Why don't you ask me to go yourself?" said Violet audaciously.
Spencer smiled again. "Have I failed in politeness by not doing so? I fear you would find me an insufferably dull companion."
So he was not going to ask her after all. Violet felt piqued. She was also conscious of a sensation very near akin to disappointment. She looked across at Madison. How trim and dapper he was!
"I hate a bandbox man," she said to herself.
Spencer meanwhile had picked up one of Mrs. Hill's novels from the stand beside him.
"Fools of Habit," he said, glancing at the cover. "I see it is making quite a sensation down east. I suppose you've read it?"
"Yes. It is very frivolous and clever—all froth but delightful froth. Did you like it?"
Spencer balanced the novel reflectively on his slender brown hand.
"Well, yes, rather. But I don't care for novels as a rule. I don't understand them. The hero of this book, now—do you believe that a man in love would act as he did?"
"I don't know," said Violet amusedly. "You ought to be a better judge than I. You are a man."