“What of them?” he said. “You could never be like Mrs. Simmons—and I’m sure I shall never be like Mr.!”
“And the Blakes, and the Foxes, and the Meedons,” she went on, enumerating the different names on her little white fingers. “They’re all married people, and they just bore one another to death! Now you and I—we’re not married—we’re not even engaged—we’re just the best friends in the world, and we don’t bore each other to death!”
“Nor likely to,” said Jack. “But I tell you who would bore you to death if you married him!—your old Philosopher!”
She nodded.
“Yes, I’m sure he would! He bores me often now! But—Jack—that’s just the fun of it! He thinks himself the wisest, wittiest, most wonderful man alive,—and he wants me to think it too. And then there’s another funny thing—oh, such a funny thing!”
“Well, what is it?” Jack demanded, rather gruffly.
“Don’t be snappy, Jack dear! The funny thing is that he feels he’s falling a little bit in love with me!—just a little bit!—and he doesn’t want to! That’s what amuses me!”
“Oh!” Jack looked slightly puzzled. “And how long is the game to last?”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
“I don’t know! It depends! The ‘game’ as you call it is more fun than getting married would be!”