“It is quite a large place,” answered Mr. Romaine, gravely. “How large should you take it to be?” he asked Miss Maywood.
“About two or three hundred thousand,” replied Ethel, dubiously.
“There are four million people within a radius of ten miles of New York’s City Hall. Good-night,” said Mr. Romaine, with much suavity, rising and going.
When he was out of the door Mrs. Chessingham spoke up promptly: “What a story! I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Of course it isn’t true,” complained Ethel, “but that is the worst of Americans—you never can tell when they are joking and when they aren’t. As for Miss Corbin, I simply can’t understand her at all. However, this move of Mr. Romaine’s settles one thing. Miss Corbin will be Mrs. Romaine, mark my words.”
“Reggie says that there is positively nothing in it; that Mr. Romaine likes her, and is amused by her. She is amusing.”
“Yes, I know she is,” replied Ethel, ruefully, with something like tears in her voice at the admission.
“And he says that she wouldn’t marry Mr. Romaine to save his life—and that he has heard her laugh at the idea.”
“That only shows, Gladys dear, how blind Reggie is, like the rest of his sex. Of course Miss Corbin protests that she doesn’t want Mr. Romaine. She did the equivalent to it the very first talk we ever had together, that day at the Casino. But I didn’t believe her, and what shocked me was her want of candor. The notion of a girl who doesn’t want money and position is entirely too great a strain on my credulity. I suppose she’ll say next that she doesn’t want to be Lady Corbin and live at Fox Court. I think it’s much better to be truthful about things.”
“So do I, dear. But my own belief is that she really likes Mr. Farebrother best of all.”