“Pretty girl, very smart, woman’s rights, little aristocrat; yes, I know. Go ahead, Colossus; what about her?”
“I guess the dude who ran me down’s her brother; I met him again this morning,” said Bernard; “that’s all.”
“Oh, what was he like?”
“Weedy looking chap in gray, with a drawl and a carpet-bag.”
“L. L. Laurenson, Esq., Royal Artillery, Distinguished Service Order,” said Lucian. “I know him, too, by name; as you would if you’d ever talked to Angela Laurenson for two minutes on end. She can’t keep him out of the conversation.”
“Does she call him Lal?” Dolly asked, curiously. Lucian nodded.
“Well, I guess I talked to her for two hours on end,” said Bernard, cutting himself another slice from the loaf; “but she didn’t mention him.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Me,” said Bernard, “and her. Pass me a couple of eggs, will you, Dolly?”