“Well,” I said, “I am sure I wish you every happiness. I had hoped, of course—but never mind that.”
“What?”
“I had hoped, as you insist on my saying it, that you and William Bates—”
A shadow passed over her face. Her eyes grew sad.
“Poor William! I’m awfully sorry about that. He’s a dear.”
“A splendid fellow,” I agreed.
“He has been so wonderful about the whole thing. So many men would have gone off and shot grizzly bears or something. But William just said ‘Right-o!’ in a quiet voice, and he’s going to caddy for me at Mossy Heath next week.”
“There is good stuff in the boy.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “If it wasn’t for Rodney—Oh, well!”
I thought it would be tactful to change the subject.