"Man?" he repeated. "D' you think I'd fool around with one of these swell dudes? No; Jimmy is the real thing, and he's a thoroughbred."
"Such a cute little mustache!" mocked the girl.
"It's one of the few things I couldn't cure him of—-that and his monocle." Forgetful of self, Blake smiled at her regretfully and shook his head. "It's too bad, Miss Dolores. No use talking when it's too late; but couldn't you have liked him enough to forget the English part? You and he would sure have made a team."
"Yes, isn't it too bad? A coronet would fit my head just as well as
Vievie's. But mamma is so silly. She never thought of that."
Blake stared in surprise. "You don't mean—?"
"Mamma has been so busy saving Vievie from you, she's not had time to consider me."
"Say," exclaimed Blake, "I've half a notion you do like him. That would account for the way you keep at him with your nagging and teasing."
"You don't say!"
"Yes. That's the way one of my sisters used to treat me."
"How smart you are!" cried the girl, and she faced away from him petulantly, that he might not see her flaming cheeks. "Oh, yes, of course I like him! I'm head over heels in love with him! How could I help but be?"