"Why not rub it in?" countered Cousin Jane briskly. "He'll go there before long, and he might as well know that he isn't throwing any sand in our eyes. . . . This sulking here in town is simply to punish her."
"Perhaps he isn't sulking. Perhaps he doesn't care to run after her any more. He may not be as keen about Leila Grey as you women think."
Maria Angelina's involuntary glance at Mrs. Blair caught the superior assurance of her smile.
"My dear Jim! He was simply mad about her. That last leave, before he went to France, he only went places to meet her."
"Well, he may have got over it. Men do," argued Cousin Jim stubbornly.
"Yes," echoed Maria Angelina's beating heart in hope, "men do!"
Cousin Jane laughed. "Men don't get over Leila Grey—not if Leila Grey wants to keep them."
"If she wanted so darn much to keep him why didn't she take him then?"
"I didn't say she wanted to keep him then." Mrs. Blair's tones were mysteriously, ironically significant. "Leila wasn't throwing herself away on any young officer—with nothing but his insurance. It was Bobby Martin that she was after——"
"Gad! Was she?" Cousin Jim was patently struck by this. "Why, Bobby's just a kid and she——"