But Fliss was full of herself and in no mood to inspire confidences. “Why the million-dollar mood?” asked Dick.
Fliss laughed and flushed a little. “I’ve had something happen to me—something nice.”
“Secret? Tell us,” begged Cecily. “I want to hear something pleasant.”
“It’s a real thrill. I’m engaged to be married. I’m to be married next month.”
“Who?”
Fliss had never looked more charming, more provocative. She dangled a gay little slipper from her toes and looked at them half teasingly.
“You’d never guess. A real high-brow. What he’ll ever do with me I don’t know. But he can’t get away now.” And then, worked up to her climax, “I told him I was going to tell you when he wasn’t around—I wanted the fun. It’s Matthew.”
“Well, isn’t that great!” said Dick, with the sincerest congratulation for Fliss and a more than faint wonder in his tone. But Fliss, if she analyzed his tone at all, was not disturbed. She was looking at Cecily.
Over Cecily’s first shock of surprise there clouded a sense of relinquishment, unacknowledged. Deliberately she made herself pleased.
“It’s wonderful.” And, more courteous than Dick, she added, “I’m awfully glad for Matthew.”