She laughed; then sighed. "David is working awfully hard, Blair."
"Darn David!" he retorted, laughing. "So am I, if that's any reason for your giving a man your society."
"You! You couldn't work hard to save your life."
"I could, if I had somebody to work for, as David has."
"You'd better get somebody," she said gaily.
"I don't want any second-bests," he declared.
"Donkey!" Elizabeth said good-naturedly. But she was a little surprised, for whatever else Blair was, he was not stupid—and such talk is always stupid. That it had its root in anything deeper than chaffing never occurred to her. They were at her own door by this time, and Blair, helping her out of the carriage, looked into her face, and his veins ran hot.
The next morning, when he went to see Nannie, he was absorbed and irritable. "Girls are queer," he told her; "they marry all kinds of men. But I'll tell you one thing: David is the last man for a girl like Elizabeth. He is perfectly incapable of understanding her."
That was the first day that he did not assure himself that he "was not in love."