bores me frightfully. Harry's way of being
lively and clever bores me to _death_! I don't want to marry a
professional entertainer! No, Valentia, that's more the sort of thing
you'd like. _You're_ quite sorry Romer's not like that."

"I don't suggest that it would be ideal to marry Harry Lauder, Daphne
dear. But wouldn't you really like someone fairly intelligent?"

"No. Why should I? Do you think I want to marry a man so horribly clever
that he wouldn't understand a word I said?"

"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think you want?" Valentia answered
herself; "It's Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed, commonplace,
hard-up, handsome boy. You can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and
has only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive regiment, and
you, darling, will only have three hundred a year. I should love to see
you happy in your own way and having your wish, but don't you think it's
a childish fancy? You're both children. Of course he hasn't suggested
marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well it's out of the
question."

"Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me the day we were
introduced--at Prince's, and he's been doing it ever since."

"Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow, you must wait and see.
Even if he could afford it, I don't think it would be a success. Why,
there's nothing in the boy! What do you see in him?"

"I like the way he laughs," said Daphne, after a pause.

"Do you mind telling me one thing straight out? I'm being very nice to
you about this, dear. I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must
treat me with complete confidence."

"Of course, of course, dear."

"Tell me, he hasn't ever kissed you, has he?"

"Oh, Valentia!"

"I beg your pardon, darling. I felt sure he hadn't."

"Of course he has."

"He has!--Where?"

"How do you mean, where? Oh! at every dance where we've ever met. He
always does, whenever he can. Is it so dreadful? He's such a boy!"

"Fancy your liking him enough for that!" said Valentia, stupefied.

"Oh, he's a darling; and the only person I ever could possibly marry."

"It's rather serious," said Valentia; "and poor Van who is so devoted!"

"He isn't, really," said Daphne decidedly.

"Don't you think so? Why?"

"Oh, the whole thing's an _idea_--the sort of thing he _wants to do_.
It's not genuine."

"I should have thought the feelings of a man of thirty-four who could
marry any one he chose would be more real than the fan