"I wonder," observed Ethel, taking up and throwing down again the current number of the Bunbury Bulletin, "if father finds Sharnbrook at the club, whether he will have the sense to let him know we are here."
"It strikes me ignorance is bliss in Sharnbrook's case," replied Dagmar cuttingly, as she stood at the window, peevishly regarding the rain.
"Oh, shut up, Dagmar," her sister returned, with a surprising lack of dignity in one so highly born. "If it clears up we might take him over to Babbleton with us."
"If he'll come," said Dagmar sarcastically.
"He must come," Ethel declared emphatically.
"He has fought shy of us since he proposed to you," Dagmar remarked maliciously.
"And was accepted," put in Ethel decisively.
"Trust you," sneered her sister. "He has the bad taste to put down the proposal to the champagne. Mrs. Wyrley-Byrde told mother so."
"All right," snapped Ethel. "Not even father's champagne ever made any man propose to you."
"A man," retorted Dagmar pointedly, "requires to be in his sober senses to appreciate me. And if he proposed under the influence of Heidsieck, I should not accept him."