Maisie flashed him a swift glance of deepest gratitude. “In that event I think I shall go home,” she said, and rang for Julia to fetch her wrap. Dan escorted her out to her car, and as she gave him her hand at parting he bent and kissed it humbly, turned and left her without the formality of saying good night.
Fortunately, Maisie thought she could understand the failure of his conversational powers.
CHAPTER XV
“Well, Mel,” Dan declared as he returned to the drawing room after seeing Maisie to her car, “I am prepared for the worst. Fly to it, old philosopher. I observe you are fairly bristling with bellicose veins.”
“That is only additional proof that you are purblind.” Mellenger helped himself to a cigar, rang for Sooey Wan, ordered a Scotch and soda and removed his dinner coat. The major portion of his existence was spent working in his shirt-sleeves, and tonight he had work to do. So he cleared for action.
“Now, then,” he began, “are you or are you not engaged to be married to Maisie Morrison?”
“I am not.”
“I thought so. Going to be?”
“I—don’t know, Mel.”
“I’ll make up your mind for you. You are.”