VERY much to Denby’s disappointment he found that he was not to take Ethel Cartwright in to dinner. Nora Rutledge fell to his lot, and although she was witty and sparkling, she shared none of those happy Parisian memories as did the girl his host had taken in.
Plainly Nora was piqued. “I thought from what Monty told me you were really interesting,” she said.
“One must never believe anything Monty says,” he observed. “It’s only his air of innocence that makes people think him honest. His flirtations on board ship were nothing short of scandalous and yet look at him now.”
And poor Monty, although to him had fallen the honor of taking in his hostess, was paying no sort of attention to her sallies.
Nora glanced at him and then looked up at Denby. “I’m really awfully fond of Monty, and I’m worried—if you’ll believe it—because he seems upset. Monty,” she called, “what’s the matter with you, and what are you thinking about?”
“We’ll have some to-morrow,” Michael observed amiably. “They induce in me a most remarkable thirst, so I keep off them on that account.”
“He’s thinking,” Denby reminded her, “of the old song, ‘A frog he would a-wooing go!’ I’ve heard of you often enough, Miss Rutledge, from Monty.”
“Well, I wish you’d started being confidential with the hors d’œuvres,” she said, “instead of waiting until dessert. If you had, by this time you’d probably have been really amusing.”
She rose at Mrs. Harrington’s signal and followed her from the room.