“Dagny. Her mother’s mother was a Norwegian, you know.”
“Dagny,” repeated Cleeve, slowly. “I never heard the name before. I like it; it suits her, somehow.”
Alas for poor Mrs. Fraser, she was not clever.
Pausing in the game, she looked up.
“Mind you don’t fall in love with her, Teddy,” she said, sharply.
“What rot!” he answered, smashing the ball into a pocket. “Why should I fall in love with her?”
“Well, a good many men do. And she’s frightfully attractive, and you’re so—young.”
He frowned. “I’m twenty-five, and—a fellow sees a lot by that time—if he’s ever going to see anything. Play.”
When Lady Harden came in from her ride, she found Teddy waiting for her.
“I’ve been warned against you,” he said, abruptly, his blue eyes dancing.