Alpha Book

. . . Come
over here, Phil; no--close to me. I wish to put my hands on your
shoulders; like that. Now look at me! Do you really love me?"
"Sure thing, Ninette."
"And you know I adore you; don't you?"
"Madly, dear, but I forgive you."
"No; I want you to be serious. Because I'm pretty serious. See, I'm not
smiling now; I don't feel like it. Because it is a very, very important
matter, Phil--this thing that has--has--almost happened. . . . It's
about Eileen. . . . And it really has happened."
"What has she done?" he asked curiously.
His sister's eyes were searching his very diligently, as though in quest
of something elusive; and he gazed serenely back, the most unsuspicious
of smiles touching his mouth.
"Phil, dear, a young girl--a very young girl--is a vapid and
uninteresting proposition to a man of thirty-five; isn't she?"
"Rather--in some ways."
"In what way is she not?"
"Well--to me, for example--she is acceptable as children are
acceptable--a blessed, sweet, clean relief from the women of the Fanes'
set, for example?"
"Like Rosamund?"
"Yes.


Pages:
295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319