"Don't you know what has happened?" she demanded, earnestly. "Don't you
really know?"
"Can't say that I do," he admitted. "I've got a sort of feeling as
though I'd been all tied-up like, lately. Haven't been able to enjoy
myself properly, and gone mooning about after shadows. To-night I feel
just as though I were coming into my own again a bit. I say," he added,
admiringly, "you do look stunning! Come and have some supper--no one
will know--and let me drive you home afterwards. Do!"
She shook her head.
"I don't think you must talk to me quite like this," she said kindly.
"You have a wife, you know, and I am engaged to be married."
He laughed, quite easily.
"Never seen Ellen, have you?" he remarked. "She's a fine woman, you
know, although she isn't quite your style. She'd think you sort of pale
and colorless, I expect--no kind of go or dash about you."
"Is that what you think?" Edith asked him, smiling.
"You aren't exactly the style I've always admired," he confessed, "but
there's something about you," he added, in a puzzled manner,--"I don't
know what it is but I remember it from a year ago--something that seemed
to catch hold of me. I expect I must be a sentimental sort of Johnny
underneath.
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