"Ferris says you want to see me, mother," said Molly, floating brightly in.
She stood there, looking at the two with shining eyes. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed: and there was about her so radiant an air of sweet, innocent, girlish gaiety that it was all Mrs. Waddington could do to refrain from hurling a bust of Edgar Allan Poe at her head.
"I do want to see you," said Mrs. Waddington. "Pray tell me instantly what is all this nonsense I hear about you and...." She choked. "... and Mr. Finch."
"To settle a bet," said Sigsbee H., "is his name Finch or Pinch?"
"Finch, of course."
"I'm bad at names," said Sigsbee. "I was in college with a fellow called Follansbee and do you think I could get it out of my nut that that guy's name was Ferguson? Not in a million years! I...."
"Sigsbee!"
"Hello?"
"Be quiet." Mrs. Waddington concentrated her attention on Molly once more. "Your father says that you told him some absurd story about being...."
"Engaged to George?" said Molly. "Yes, it's quite true. I am. By a most extraordinary chance we met this afternoon in Central Park near the Zoo...."