"Then it seems natural to me, our being here together; but"—and Diana glanced sideways at him—"in the East, I believe, people consider relationship of little or no importance."
He sipped his sherry, reflecting.
"As a rule," he said; "but"—and he laughed—"if any Easterner even suspected he had two such California cousins, he'd start for the Pacific coast without his breakfast!"
"Did you ever hear anything half as amiable?" asked Silvette, laughing.
"I never did," replied Diana; "especially as we're probably his twenty-second cousins."
"That distance may lend an enchantment to the obligations of kinship!" he said gayly.
Diana looked up, grave as a youthful Japanese goddess.
"You don't mean that, do you?"
"No, I don't," he said, reddening. "If I did, the janitor ought to throw me out."
Silvette nodded seriously.