"I know," says Veronica. "And what a big, handsome creature he is too! But I fear I'm not equal to carrying on a lifelong monologue."
"Surely that wouldn't be the case with Beverley Duer," suggests Sadie.
"Isn't he entertaining!" says Veronica enthusiastic. "But wouldn't it be a bit selfish, appropriating all that brilliance just for oneself? And could it be done? I'm afraid not. About once a month, I imagine, Beverley would need a new audience. Besides—well, I'm sure I don't know; only I don't seem thrilled in the way I ought to be."
With chat like that bein' batted back and forth, I expect I wa'n't takin' much notice of Dudley Byron, who's sittin' quiet between me and Aunty; but all of a sudden he leans over and whispers eager:
"Isn't she perfectly splendid, though?"
"Eh?" says I, tearin' myself away from what's still goin' on at the other end of the table. "Oh! Miss Adams? Sure, she's a star."
"I—I would like to know her better," says Dudley, sort of plaintive.
"Crash in, then," says I. "No opposition here."
I thought I was bein' humorous; for Dudley's about as much of a lady's man as he is a heavy shot putter. I never knew of his lookin' twice at a girl before; but to-night he seems to be makin' up for lost time. All durin' the rest of the meal he does the steady, admirin' gaze at Veronica. He don't try to hide it, either, but fixes them gray eyes of his her way and neglects to eat five perfectly good courses. When we adjourns to the livin' room for coffee he keeps it up too. Couldn't have been much suddener if he'd been struck by lightnin'.
I don't know how many others noticed it, but it was as plain as day to me that Dudley Byron is on the point of makin' a chump of himself. I begun to feel kind of sorry for him too; for he's a decent, well meanin' young chap. So I edges around where I can get a word with him on the side.