She suddenly broke into laughter, and ejaculated: “Say, that was hard work! Don’t you hate to have to be serious? Let’s trot down, and I’ll make Tom or Duncan rush us a growler of beer to welcome you to our midst…. I’ll bet your socks aren’t darned properly. I’m going to sneak in and take a look at them, once I get you caged up here…. But I won’t read your love-letters! Now let’s go down by the fire, where it’s comfy.”
CHAPTER XV
HE STUDIES FIVE HUNDRED, SAVOUIR FAIRE, AND LOTSA-SNAP OFFICE MOTTOES
On a couch of glossy red leather with glossy black buttons and stiff fringes also of glossy red leather, Mr. William Wrenn sat upright and was very confiding to Miss Nelly Croubel, who was curled among the satin pillows with her skirts drawn carefully about her ankles. He had been at Mrs. Arty’s for two weeks now. He wore a new light-blue tie, and his trousers were pressed like sheet steel.
“Yes, I suppose you’re engaged to some one, Miss Nelly, and you’ll go off and leave us—go off to that blamed Upton’s Grove or some place.”
“I am not engaged. I’ve told you so. Who would want to marry me? You stop teasing me—you’re mean as can be; I’ll just have to get Tom to protect me!”
“Course you’re engaged.”
“Ain’t.”
“Are.”
“Ain’t. Who would want to marry poor little me?”
“Why, anybody, of course.”