"Oh, no, he was annoyed that day we flirted so outrageously, but I know he would be glad to see you."
"I had a wonderful time that day, myself."
"It was fun. Everybody was so at cross purposes."
"Do I continue the rôle of old beau?"
"Oh, no. You've established yourself with father, so there's no use in playing up."
"Old beau exit with regret," he sighed.
"You're a nice man, and I'm glad of you."
"Thanks. Give me Jocelyn's address before you forget it. Ah, there's the Professor now," he added, as he pocketed the card and hastened into the garden.
The rest of the two days they spent in easy companionship. They played tennis, they drove through the woods in an old surrey, Bambi as whip. Then, when the Professor's early bedtime removed him to the second story, they sat on the moonlit piazza and talked.
The novel had grown into ten chapters. Three instalments had been published, and the public was showing a most flattering interest in it. Strong brought a box of letters for her to read from enthusiastic readers.