Grinnidge, without troubling himself to rise: “Well, good luck to you!”
Miss Reed: “How droll they are with each other! Don’t you like to hear them talk? Oh, I could listen all day.”
Grinnidge, calling after Ransom: “You haven’t told me your duck’s name.”
Miss Reed: “Is that what they call us? Duck! Do you think it’s very respectful, Nettie? I don’t believe I like it. Or, yes, why not? It’s no harm—if I am his duck!”
Ransom, coming back: “Well, I don’t propose to go shouting it round. Her name is Miss Reed—Ethel Reed.”
Miss Reed: “How can he?”
Grinnidge: “Slender, willowy party, with a lot of blond hair that looks as if it might be indigenous? Rather pensive-looking?”
Miss Reed: “Indigenous! I should hope so!”
Ransom: “Yes. But she isn’t pensive. She’s awfully deep. It makes me shudder to think how deep that girl is. And when I think of my courage in daring to be in love with her—a stupid, straightforward idiot like me—I begin to respect myself in spite of being such an ass. Well, I’m off. If I stay any longer I shall never go.” He closes the door after him, and Miss Reed instantly springs to her feet.
Miss Reed: “Now he’ll have to go down to the parlor and send up his name, and that just gives me time to do the necessary prinking. You stay here and receive him, Nettie.”