"You look tired," said Marion to her guest. The first bout of conversation was over, and Dr. Atherstone had gone back to his letters.
Enid Glenwilliam took off her hat, accepted the cushion which her hostess was pressing upon her, and lay at ease in her cane chair.
"You wouldn't wonder, if you could reckon up my week!" she said, laughing. "Let's see—four dinners, three balls, two operas,—a week-end at Windsor, two bazars, three meetings, two concerts, and tea-parties galore! What do you expect but a rag!"
"Don't say you don't like it!"
"Oh yes, I like it. At least, if people don't ask me to things I'm insulted, and when they do—"
"You're bored?"
"It's you finished the sentence!—not I! And I've scarcely seen father this week except at breakfast. That's bored me horribly."
"What have you really been doing?"
"Inquisitor!—I have been amusing myself."
"With Arthur Coryston?"