“Goodness,” she murmured, “they make an awful fuss about nothing.”
“Now,” he continued, leaning forward a trifle toward her languid, half interested figure, “I just want you to think of him as a little boy. He’s only twenty-two. He knows nothing of the world. The money you give to the poor doesn’t come so hard perhaps as this will. It’s a big sacrifice, but I want you to let the boy go.”
She smiled slightly, found her handkerchief, which was tucked up the cuff of her blouse, pressed the little bit of linen to her lips as though to steady them, then she asked abruptly:
“What has he said to you?”
“Lord!” Ruggles groaned. “Said to me! My dear young lady, he is much too rude to speak. Dan sort of breathes and snorts around like a lunatic. He was dangling around that duchess when I was here before, but she didn’t scare me any.”
And Letty Lane, now smiling at him, relieved by his break from a more intense tone, asked:
“Now, you are scared?”
“Well,” Ruggles drawled, “I was pretty sure that woman didn’t care anything for the boy. Are you her kind?”
It was the best stroke he had made. She almost sprang up from her chair.
“Heavens,” she exclaimed, “I guess I’m not!” Her face flushed.