"I did not think you would be interested." he said lamely. "And there is nothing to tell if you are looking for a romance."
"That is what you say." she declared. "But that is so like a man— never will admit it when he cares for a woman."
Chris colored a little. He could not imagine what it was she wanted him to say.
"You've always been such a confirmed bachelor." she went on. "I am beginning to think that your wife must be a very wonderful woman to have so completely metamorphosed you."
Chris frowned. He resented this cross-examination even while he was half inclined to think it unreasonable of him to do so. After all, he had known Mrs. Heriot some considerable time, and, as she said, they had always been good friends.
"I can tell you one thing," he said half seriously. "And that is, that my wife is the only woman in the world for whom I would have given up my bachelor freedom! There, will that satisfy you?"
Mrs. Heriot smiled sweetly. She always smiled sweetly when she was feeling particularly vixenish.
"How sweet of you! How very sweet!" she murmured. "Of course, I have always said what a particularly charming girl she is—so unspoilt, so unsophisticated! I suppose it is just another case of like attracting unlike."
"I suppose it is," said Chris bluntly. He wished to goodness she would talk about something else. He was shrewd enough to detect the sting beneath her sugary words, and all his pride, if nothing more, rose in defense of Marie. He thought of her with a little glow of affectionate warmth.
"She's the most unselfish child I've ever met." he said impulsively.