"I met her in the springtime, Gentle Annie," Dearborn said whimsically, "and it was raining cats and dogs—but for me it rained just love and Nora. We were both waiting for a 'bus. Neither one of us had an umbrella. Now that you speak of it, Tony, I think we have never mended that lack in our possessions. We climbed to the impériale together, and the rain beat upon us both. We laughed, and I said to myself, a girl that can laugh like that in a shower should be put aside for a rainy day. We talked and we giggled. The rain stopped. We forgot to get down. We went to the end of the line and still we forgot to get down. The conductor collected a double fare, and afterward I took her home."
(Antony thought to himself, "Just what I did not do.")
"She is angelic, Tony, delightful, an artist's dream, a writer's inspiration, and a poor man's fairy."
Fairfax laughed.
"Don't laugh, old man," said Dearborn simply. "I have never heard you rave like this about the peerless Mary."
Fairfax said, "No. But then you talk better than I do." He shook Dearborn's hand warmly. "You know I am most awfully glad, don't you?"
"I know I am," said Dearborn, lighting a cigarette.
He settled himself with a beautiful content, asking nothing better than to go on rehearsing his love affair.
"We have been engaged a long time, Tony. It is only a question of how little two people can dare to try
to get on with, you know, and I have determined to risk it."