“Oh, I know, I know; so do I. But he hasn’t a penny.”
“He’d take you about and show you things.”
“Quite so; out of a third-class window. I don’t care for that.”
“You aren’t going to have that Farquhar chap?”
“I’ve not quite made up my mind.”
“Well, you’ll be a fool if you choose him,” said Bernard, returning to the Daily Telegraph; and human nature is so constituted that at that moment Dolly would have accepted Farquhar on the spot, had he been present.
The clock struck nine. Dolly got up, extended her arms above her head, and yawned. “Oh, I am sleepy,” she said. “Good-night, Bernard.”
“’D-night,” answered Bernard, deep in the finance news.
Dolly moved towards the door; then, a certain thought crossing her mind, she came to Bernard’s chair and bent her beautiful head.
“Give me a kiss, Bernie.”