“You’re doing it charmingly,” Winthrop assured her.
“Good!” exclaimed Vera. “Well, now,” she inquired, “now we talk, don’t we?”
“Yes,” assented Winthrop promptly, “we talk about you.”
“No, I—I don’t think we do,” declared Vera, in haste. “I think we talk about—Geneva.” She turned to him with real interest. “Is the town much changed?” she asked.
As though preparing for a long talk, Winthrop dropped his hat to the floor and settled himself comfortably. “Well, it is, and it isn’t,” he answered. “Haven’t you been back lately?” he asked. Vera looked quickly away from him.
“I have never been back!” she answered. There was a pause and when she again turned her eyes to his, she was smiling. “But I always take the Geneva Times,” she said, “and I often read that you’ve been there. You’re a great man in Geneva.”
Winthrop nodded gravely.
“Whenever I want to be a great man,” he said, “I go to Geneva.”
“Why, yes,” exclaimed Vera. “Last June you delivered the oration to the graduating class,” she laughed, “on The College Man in Politics. Such an original subject! And did you point to yourself?” she asked mockingly, “as the—the bright example?”
“No,” protested Winthrop, “I knew they’d see that.”