“I could, of course, write to father any day,” I said; “but as a matter of fact I don’t.”
“But why not?”
“It would worry the poor man.”
“But you might write just once to give him my message.”
“I will, Augusta, if you will leave me now.”
“But why do you want to get rid of me? How like you are to him! You have just that same bluntness and the same determination. You interest me at times profoundly.”
“Well,” I said, “if I interest you to the extent of getting you to start your German it would be better.”
“All right; but what am I to say to that silly Comtesse?”
“Tell her that I will see her by-and-by.”
“You had much better not. She is not worth a grain of salt. A little piece of conceit!”