“You may. Some day.”
Her blue eyes burned. “I think you don’t quite know what you are saying.”
“I do, dear lady. But we won’t quarrel about it.”
She switched to less dangerous topics. “I’m late for dinner. Is Uncle Fred roaring?”
“More or less. And Mrs. Laramore is purring.”
They rather wickedly enjoyed their laugh at the expense of an older generation, and went in together to find Frederick icy with indignation.
Waldron announced dinner, and Frederick with Mrs. Follette on his arm preceded the others. Baldy and Edith came last.
“How many dances are you going to give me?”
“Not as many as I’d like. Being hostess, I shall have to divide myself among many.”
“Cut yourself up into little stars as it were. Well, you know what Browning says of a star? ‘Mine has opened its soul to me—therefore I love it’!”