Pat's family variously raged, begged, and protested. Pat let them. They prophesied social ostracism for her. She shrugged away the suggestion as improbable in the first place and not worth worrying about anyway. But she would have gone away had it not been for her self-assumed responsibility to her broken brother-in-law. And it was from him that her main support came. From the first he stood by her unquestioning.
"You're awfully good to me, Jimmie-jams," she said one day as she was wheeling him in the garden, having dismissed the attendant. "What did you really think when I told you I wasn't going to marry Monty?"
A smile of justified cleverness lighted up his pain-worn face. "I'd never thought that you would."
"Cute little Jimmie! Why not?"
"Too much brains. He'd never keep you interested and you found it out in time."
"Not too soon," observed the girl with a grimace. "The family are still raising merry Hades about it."
"Naturally. You don't think you're entitled to any Sunday-school award for good behaviour on the thing, do you?"
"No. I don't," admitted Pat. But she pouted.
A silence fell between them. It lasted for a full turn around the garden. Tired of pouting, Pat broke it.
"Want to play bezique, Jimmie?"