"What do you think about?"
"I think about papa," she rejoined, still indignantly: "I think about your mother and you. I have a great many nice things to think about without being taken up with those horrid subjects."
"'Horrid subjects'! Good gracious!" I exclaimed: "I intend some day to be somebody's lover: shall I be a 'horrid subject'?"
She laughed frankly, a delightful girlish laugh which showed her little pearly teeth. "It depends on how you behave," she said with a little nod. "Georgy Lenox has lovers: she tells me about them, and I think them horrid."
"Do they come to the house here?"
"Oh yes. One is a stout man with a red face. He wears a solitaire diamond in his necktie. Papa knows him: he was in Congress, and his name is Judge Talbot. Then there is a young man—not so young as you, but still young. He remembers you: he used to be in Belfield. He is Mr. Thorpe."
"Tony Thorpe here? What unlikely people I come across! Which is Miss Lenox's favorite admirer?"
"As if she would have favorites among such admirers! Georgy is the most beautiful girl in the world. Papa is not fond of her, but even he says she is a superb creature. Why does nobody like Georgy? Papa does not, and I am sure Mrs. Randolph does not, nor do you. Yet she is so beautiful, so winning, so clever!"
"You don't need to pity her for not gaining love," said I gravely. "My mother may not like her, because she knew her as a faulty child who did considerable mischief first and last; and Mr. Floyd dislikes her because—You know why he dislikes her, Helen. But many people love her: I think few women in the world have won so much devotion. I have just seen Jack Holt, who had to give her up, and I am far from believing that nobody likes her."
"But why did he give her up?" questioned Helen.