"I want to go home with you and Squibs to-night."
Mrs. Bailly smiled her gratitude, but as he was about to move away she stopped him with a curiosity he had not expected from her.
"Isn't Sylvia Planter beautiful? Why do you suppose she doesn't marry?"
George laughed shortly, shook his head, and hurried upstairs to Lambert's room; yet Mrs. Bailly had increased his uneasiness. Perhaps it was the too-frequent repetition of that question that had made Sylvia turn temporarily to Blodgett; that was, possibly, focussing her eyes on Dalrymple now; yet why, from such a field, did she choose these men? What was one to make of her mind and its unexpected reactions? The matter of marriage was, not unnaturally, in the air here. Lambert faced him with it.
"Josiah's right. When are you going to make a home, Apollo Morton?"
George turned on him angrily, not bothering to choose his words.
"Such a question from you is ridiculous. You've not forgotten the dark ages either."
Lambert looked at him for a moment affectionately, not without sympathy.
"Don't be an ass, George."
George's laughter was impatient.