“So am I, yet people don't run away from me.”
“I saw you run away from them,” she said with a significant nod. “I was at my bedroom window. They spoiled a most interesting little conversation.”
Jimmie was startled. He looked at her keenly, but only met laughing eyes.
“They interrupted me certainly. But I could n't have inflicted my society on Miss Hardacre all the afternoon.”
“You would have liked to, wouldn't you? Jimmie dear,” she said with a change of tone, “I want to have a talk with you. I'm the oldest woman friend you have—”
“And by far the sweetest and kindest and prettiest and fascinatingest.”
She tapped his hand with her fingers. “Ssh! I'm serious, awfully serious. I've never been so serious in my life before. I've got a duty. I don't often have it, but when I do, it's a terrible matter.”
“You had better go and have it extracted at once, Connie,” he laughed, determined to keep the talk in a frivolous channel. But the little lady was determined also.
“Jimmie dear,” she said, holding up her forefinger, “I am afraid you are running into danger. I want to warn you. An old friend can do that, can't she?”
“You can say anything you like to me, Connie. But I don't know what you mean.”