“You wish it?” Tamea queried softly.
He nodded, so Tamea kissed him good night and then followed her caress with one each for Mellenger and Maisie.
When she had gone Mellenger swung round on the piano stool and grinned at Dan Pritchard.
“This has been a trying evening, old horse,” he declared, “but, by and large and thanks to two people who appear to possess the faculty of keeping their heads when all about them are losing theirs, what threatened to become a riot has ended in a love feast. Dan, that girl is nobody’s fool. Her head is quite filled with brains.”
“I think, when she has become a little more civilized, she will be adorable,” Maisie added.
“She is adorable now,” Dan reminded them. Subconsciously he desired to defend any weakness he might have exhibited during the evening. Also, he had an impulse to castigate Maisie for her inexplicable conduct in declaring, in the presence of his other guests, that an engagement existed between them.
“That’s no excuse for your losing your head over her, old son.”
“Quite so,” Maisie echoed. “Because I sensed your helpless state, following Tamea’s frank declaration of a proprietary interest in you, I invented our engagement as a sort of funk-hole for you to crawl into, Dan.”
“You were very courageous, Maisie.”
“It was a forlorn hope and it failed. I might as well inform you, my friends, that Tamea was unimpressed.” Mellenger was very serious now. “What are you going to do about this girl, Dan? You’ve got to get her out of your house.”