"Schlegelhessen," says Marjorie, "and he's a perfect——"
"Yes, I've heard he was," says I. "Little antique, though, ain't he?"
"Why, he isn't forty!" says Marjorie. "And he's just too——"
There wa'n't time for any more bouquets, though; for the trio was too close. Must have been some of a surprise for Vee to see me waitin' there, and for a bit she don't seem to make out just who it is. That only lasts a second, though. Then them gray eyes of hers lights up, and them thin lips curls into a smile, and she holds out both hands in that quick way of hers.
"Why, it's Torchy, isn't it?" says she, half laughin'.
"Uh-huh," says I, lettin' the grin spread wider. "Can't shake the name or the hair."
"Never try," says she. "Look, Aunty, here's Torchy!"
"Torchy?" says the wide old girl, inspectin' me doubtful through her lorgnette. "Why, Verona, I don't remember——"
"Oh, yes, you do, Aunty," says Miss Vee. "Anyway, I've told you about him, and it's so jolly to have some one to meet us. Thank you, Torchy. Now let's see, Marjorie, how do we divide up? Aunty goes to her hotel—and—and where do you go, Count?"
"Me, I am—what you call—perplex," says the Count, and he sure looked it. "But where the young ladies go, there I will follow. Hein?"