She sipped her coffee, tried a pigeon egg, inquired what it was, ate it, enchanted.
"How thoroughly nice you always are to me, Kelly!" she said, looking up in the engagingly fearless way characteristic of her when with him.
"Isn't everybody nice to you?" he said with a shrug which escaped her notice.
"Nice?" She coloured a trifle and laughed. "Not in your way, Kelly. In the sillier sense they are—some of them."
"Even Querida?" he said, carelessly.
"Oh, just like other men—generously ready for any event. What self-sacrificing opportunists men are! After all, Kelly," she added, slipping easily into the vernacular, "it's always up to the girl."
"Is it?"
"Yes, I think so. I knew perfectly well that I had no business to let
Querida's arm remain around me. But—there was a moon, Kelly."
"Certainly."
"Why do you say 'certainly'?"