"Of course."
"Oh--you mean Drina."
"Who else?" he asked lightly.
"I thought you were speaking seriously. I"--all her latent instinct for
such meddling aroused--"I thought perhaps you meant Gladys."
"Gladys who?" he asked blandly.
"Gladys Orchil, silly! People said--"
"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed; "if people 'said,' then it's all over. Nina!
do I look like a man on a still hunt for a million?"
"Gladys is a beauty!" retorted Nina indignantly.
"With the intellect of a Persian kitten," he nodded. "I--that was not a
nice thing to say. I'm sorry. I'm ashamed. But, do you know, I have come
to regard my agreement with Drina so seriously that I take absolutely no
interest in anybody else."
"Try to be serious, Boots," said Nina. "There are dozens of nice girls
you ought to be agreeable to. Austin and I were saying only last night
what a pity it is that you don't find either of the Minster twins
interesting--"
"I might find them compoundly interesting," he admitted, "but
unfortunately there's no chance in this country for multiple domesticity
and the simpler pleasures of a compound life.
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