"Of course. Barry's going, too."
"You mean that you won't let me go with you alone."
"I mean nothing of the kind. Barry always goes. He used to do it to please mother, and now he does it—for remembrance."
"I'm so jealous of my moments alone with you. Why can't Leila stay with you to-night, then there will be four of us, and I can have you to myself. I can bring the car, if you'd rather."
"No, I like to walk. It's so lovely and solemn."
"Be sure to ask Leila."
She promised, and he went away, having to look in at a dance given by one of his mother's friends; and Mary, returning to join the others, pondered, a little wistfully, on the fact that Porter Bigelow should be so eager for a privilege which Roger Poole had just declined.
CHAPTER VII
In Which Aunt Frances Speaks of Matrimony as a Fixed Institution and is Met by Flaming Arguments; and in Which a Strange Voice Sings Upon the Stairs.