"Cared for you? Of course. They're not fools or blind. Look here, I'm going to ring you up now and then."
"I think you'd better not."
"If I'm not to see you and not to telephone, how's this friendship of ours to get on?"
"People who are real friends don't need to see each other."
"That's the first real débutante speech you've made to-night. Now, see here, I'm going to see you again, and often. And I'm going to ring you up. What's your tailor's name?"
I told him, and he put it down on his dance card.
"All right," he said. "Herschenrother is now my middle name, and if it's not convenient to talk, you can give me the high sign."
Toots Warrington came along just then with an army officer she'd taken on. They got clear round the palms and into the pantry before they saw us, and her face was funny.
Mother and I had another heart-to-heart talk that night on the way home. Father had gone a couple of hours earlier and we had the car to ourselves. Mother was tired and irritable.
"It seemed to me, Kit," she observed, "that you danced with every hopeless ineligible there. You danced three times with Henry."