“You would imply?”
“Oh, you have points, and nobody knows them better than Waring Ridgway,” she told him jauntily. “But you needn’t play that role to the address of Aline Harley. Try ME. I’m immune to romance. Besides, I’m engaged to you,” she added, laughing at the inconsequence the fact seemed to have for both of them.
“I’m afraid I can’t help the situation, for if I’ve been playing a part, it has been an unconscious one.”
“That’s the worst of it. When you star as Waring Ridgway you are most dangerous. What I want is total abstinence.”
“You’d rather I didn’t see her at all?”
Virginia dimpled, a gleam of reminiscent laughter in her eyes. “When I was in Denver last month a Mrs. Smythe—it was Smith before her husband struck it rich last year—sent out cards for a bridge afternoon. A Mrs. Mahoney had just come to the metropolis from the wilds of Cripple Creek. Her husband had struck a gold-mine, too, and Mr. Smythe was under obligations to him. Anyhow, she was a stranger, and Mrs. Smythe took her in. It was Mrs. Mahoney’s introduction to bridge, and she did not know she was playing for keeps. When the afternoon was over, Mrs. Smythe hovered about her with the sweetest sympathy. ‘So sorry you had such a horrid run of cards, dear. Better luck next time.’ It took Mrs. Mahoney some time to understand that her social afternoon had cost one hundred and twenty dollars, but next day her husband sent a check for one hundred and twenty-two dollars to Mrs. Smythe. The extra two dollars were for the refreshments, he naively explained, adding that since his wife was so poor a gambler as hardly to be able to keep professionals interested, he would not feel offended if Mrs. Smythe omitted her in future from her social functions.”
Ridgway took it with a smile. “Simon Harley brought his one hundred and twenty-two dollars in person.”
“He didn’t! When?”
“This morning. He proposed benevolent assimilation as a solution of our troubles.”
“Just how?”