He threw himself into a chair opposite Jane, one leg over the arm of it. He was a careless and picturesque figure. Even Jane was aware of his youth and good looks.
Edith had, as it seemed, asked him to have Towne send the ring back to Delafield—to have her wedding presents sent back, to have a bag packed with her belongings.
“I am going to take it to her on my car——”
“And you a perfect stranger. I think it’s utterly mad, Baldy.”
“Why mad? And she doesn’t feel that I’m a perfect stranger.”
“Oh!”
“And it is because I am a perfectly disinterested person.”
“You’re not disinterested.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Oh, you know, Baldy. You’re terribly smitten.”