“I am sorry—I am sorry!” she exclaimed.
“My dear girl, don’t distress yourself. I’ve had at least twenty affairs before, to say nothing of being actually married.”
“Married!”
“All right, all right; I’ve no Italian wives up my sleeve. She’s been dead these nine years past. I merely wish to point out to you that my heartstrings take cement. Look here, I’m going to call you Dolly; do you mind?”
“Is it the proper thing?” began Dolly, her eyes dancing.
“Yes, my dear girl; say we’re cousins—we are, through Adam. Anyway, I’ll do the lying for you; I’m handy at it. Are you going to have old Farquhar?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t care for him?”
Dolly shook her head.
“That’s a pity. But he’s very keen on you?”