“You were a handsome couple,” he said at last.
“Please don’t be silly, Jim.”
“I’m such an old man and such an ass, my dear. He is a nice boy and you must play with him a lot.”
“Let’s not go back to the table. Let’s collect our coats and get out.”
He waltzed her to the door and they went home. Such petty informalities “went” with the Hubbell crowd. It was considered bad form in that milieu to be too conventional. Modern people went and came as they pleased. That was the idea. But Horatia had a vague feeling that, none the less, Mrs. Hubbell might not approve of their going.
Wentworth was as good as his word.
“He is parked below,” said Jim whimsically, two days later. “Better go and get your ride or he’ll sit there and freeze to death.”
He closed the office door.
“But you might let me kiss you before you go out to be admired by dashing young men,” he finished.