"That's ducky of you. You are a good sport, Ricky—and always were! Go on and marry her if you can. Other women have stood it.... And, I know it's vulgar and low and catty of me—but I'd love to see Mrs. Sprowl blow up—and see that hatchet-faced Langly disappointed—yes, I would, and I don't care what you think! Their ancestors were common people, and Heaven knows why a Wycherly of Wycherly should be afraid of the descendants of Dutch rum smugglers!"
Quarren looked up with a weary smile.
"But you are afraid," he said.
"I am," admitted Molly, furiously; and marched out.
As he put her into her car he said:
"Write me if you don't change your mind about asking me to Witch-Hollow."
"No fear," said the pretty little woman; "and," she added, "I hope you make mischief and raise the very dickens all around. I sincerely hope you do!"
"I hope so, too," he said with the ghost of a smile.
