“Let’s not talk of them,” he cried, in pretended alarm.
Her inextinguishable gaiety brought back the smile he liked. “We’ll talk of SOME ONE else—some one of interest to us both.”
“I am always ready to talk of Miss Virginia Balfour,” he said, misunderstanding promptly.
She smiled her disdain of his obtuseness in an elaborately long survey of him.
“Well?” he wanted to know.
“That’s how you look—very well, indeed. I believe the storm was greatly exaggerated,” she remarked.
“Isn’t that rather a good definition for a blizzard—a greatly exaggerated storm?”
“You don’t look the worse for wear—not the wreck I expected to behold.”
“Ah, you should have seen me before I saw you.”
“Thank you. I have no doubt you find the sight of my dear face as refreshing as your favorite cocktail. I suppose that is why it has taken you three days after your return to reach me and then by special request.”