“I suppose it is,” he replied, “but the freshness need not count for much among so many. Is Veynes coming here for you?”
“Mercy, no!” she laughed. “He wouldn’t quite understand it; it doesn’t occur to him that a girl who kicks her skirts about at so much a week can ever want anything of a man but flattery and new frocks. A good deal of dullness goes with a title, you know.”
“If by dullness you mean bewilderment, I might be a duke. Will you explain?”
“Why I’m here?”
“Oh, no, I understand that; you’ve tried to make me envy Tantalus before; but why you’ve forgotten your prudence and your promises—I used to believe in both—and what has become of your chaperon; and how deep Lord Veynes is in it.”
She left all but the last question unanswered, and said, looking from him toward the fire:
“He wants me to marry him.”
She missed the quick spring of his eyes to her face, but she met them the next moment.
“Am I to congratulate you?” he inquired.
“You might have said him,” she remarked; “however, it’s good of you not to jump—but you always could sit still. I know you’re saying something nasty inside of you; mayn’t I hear it?”