Dolly Dialogues Part 34

"She was perfect."

"How? Clever?"

I waved my hand impatiently.

"Pretty, Mr. Carter?"

"Why, of course; the prettiest picture I ever--but that goes without saying."

"It would have gone better without saying," remarked Dolly.

"Considering--"

To have asked "Considering what?" would have been the acme of bad taste.

I merely smiled, and waved my hand again.

"You're quite serious about it, aren't you?" said Dolly.

"I should think I was," said I indignantly. "Not to be serious in such a matter is to waste it utterly."

"I'll come to the wedding," said Dolly.

"There won't be a wedding," said I. "There are Reasons."

"Oh! You're very unlucky, Mr. Carter."

"That," I observed, "is as it may be, Lady Mickleham."

"Were the Reasons at the reception?"

"They were. It made no difference."

"It's very curious," remarked Dolly with a compa.s.sionate air, "that you always manage to admire people whom somebody else has married."

"It would be very curious," I rejoined, "if somebody had not married the people whom I admire. Last night, though, I made nothing of his sudden removal; my fancy rioted in accidental deaths for him."

"He won't die," said Dolly.

"I hate that sort of superst.i.tion," said I irritably. "He's just as likely to die as any other man is."

"He certainly won't die," said Dolly.

"Well, I know he won't. Do let it alone," said I, much exasperated. It was probably only kindness, but Dolly suddenly turned her eyes away from me and fixed them on the fire; she took the fan up again and twirled it in her hand; a queer little smile bent her lips.

"I hope the poor man won't die," said Dolly in a low voice.

"If he had died last night!" I cried longingly. Then, with a regretful shrug of my shoulders, I added, "Let him live now to the crack of doom!"

Somehow this restored my good humor. I rose and stood with my back to the fire, stretching myself and sighing luxuriously. Dolly leant back in her chair and laughed at me.

"Do you expect to be forgiven?" she asked.

"No, no," said I; "I had too good an excuse."

"I wish I'd been there--at the reception, I mean."

"I'm extremely glad you weren't, Lady Mickleham. As it was I forgot all my troubles."

Dolly is not resentful; she did not mind the implied description. She leant back, smiling still. I sighed again, smiled at Dolly, and took my hat. Then I turned to the mirror over the mantelpiece, arranged my necktie, and gave my hair a touch.

"No one," I observed, "can afford to neglect the niceties of the toilet.

Those dainty little curls on the forehead--"

"You've had none there for ten years," cried Lady Mickleham.

"I did not mean my forehead," said I.

Sighing once again, I held out my hand to Dolly.

"Are you doing anything this evening?" she asked.

"That depends on what I'm asked to do," said I cautiously.

"Well, Archie's going to be at the House, and I thought you might take me to the Phaetons' party. It's quite a long drive, a horrible long drive, Mr. Carter."

I stood for a moment considering this proposal.

"I don't think," said I, "that it would be proper."

"Why, Archie suggested it! You're making an excuse. You know you are!"

and Lady Mickleham looked very indignant. "As if," she added scornfully, "you cared about what was proper!"

I dropped into a chair, and said, in a confidential tone, "I don't care a pin. It was a mere excuse. I don't want to come."

"You're very rude, indeed. Many women would never speak to you again."

"They would," said I, "all do just as you will."

"And what's that, Mr. Carter."

"Ask me again on the first opportunity."

"Why won't you come?" said Dolly, waiving this question.

I bent forward, holding my hat in my left hand and sawing the air with my right forefinger.

"You fail to allow," said I impressively, "for the rejuvenescence which recent events have produced in me. If I came with you this evening, I should be quite capable--" I paused.