"Who expects anything serious from Ricky? He possesses good manners, and a sweet alacrity," said Chrysos Lacy, "and that's a rare combination."
"He's clever enough to be wicked, anyway," said Mrs. Sprowl. "Don't tell me that every one of his sentimental affairs have been perfectly harmless."
"Has he had many?" asked Strelsa before she meant to.
"Thousands, child. There was Betty Clyde—whose husband must have been an idiot—and Cynthia Challis—she married Prince Sarnoff, you remember——"
"The Sarnoffs are coming in February," observed Chrysos Lacy.
"I wonder if the Prince has had a tub since he left," said Mrs. Sprowl. "How on earth Cynthia can endure that dried up yellow Tartar——"
"Cynthia was in love with Ricky I think," said Susanne Lannis.
"Most girls are when they come out, but their mothers won't let 'em marry him. Poor Ricky."
"Poor Ricky," sighed Chrysos; "he is so nice, and nobody is likely to marry him."
"Why?" asked Strelsa.