"I wish to goodness you'd marry Virginia Suydam; but you won't."
"Virginia!" he repeated, astonished.
"Yes, I do; I wish you were safely and suitably married. I'm worried, Garry; you are becoming too good-looking not to get into some horrid complication—as poor Jim Wayward did; and now he's done for, finished! Oh, I wish I didn't feel so responsible for you. And I wish you weren't going to the Cardrosses' to live for months!"
He leaned forward, laughing, and took his aunt's slim hands between his own sunburned fists. "You cunning little thing," he said, "if you talk that way I'll marry you off to one of the faithful three; you and Virginia too. Lord, do you think I'm down here to cut capers when I've enough hard work ahead to drive a dozen men crazy for a year? As for your beautiful Miss Cardross—why I saw a girl in a boat—not long ago—who really was a beauty. I mean to find her, some day; and that is something for you to worry about!"
"Garry! Tell me!"
But he rose, still laughing, and saluted Miss Palliser's hands.
"If you and Virginia have nothing better on I'll dine with you at eight. Yes? No?"
"Of course. Where are you going now?"
"To report to Mr. Cardross—and brave beauty in its bower," he added mischievously. "I'll doubtless be bowled over first shot and come around for a dinner and a blessing at eight this evening."
"Don't joke about it," she said as they rose together and stood for a moment at the window looking down into the flowering gardens.