She referred to the gallant defender of our seas, it appeared, and while Laura undressed and got into a wrapper, Cora recounted in detail the history of the impetuous sailor’s enthrallment;—­a resume predicted three hours earlier by a gleeful whisper hissed across the maritime shoulder as the sisters swung near each other during a waltz:  “proposed!”

“I’ve always heard they’re horribly inconstant,” she said, regretfully.  “But, oh, Laura, wasn’t he beautiful to look at!  Do you think he’s more beautiful than Val?  No—­don’t tell me if you do.  I don’t want to hear it!  Val was so provoking:  he didn’t seem to mind it at all.  He’s nothing but a big brute sometimes:  he wouldn’t even admit that he minded, when I asked him.  I was idiot enough to ask; I couldn’t help it; he was so tantalizing and exasperating—­laughing at me.  I never knew anybody like him; he’s so sure of himself and he can be so cold.  Sometimes I wonder if he really cares about anything, deep down in his heart—­anything except himself.  He seems so selfish:  there are times when he almost makes me hate him; but just when I get to thinking I do, I find I don’t—­he’s so deliciously strong, and there’s such a big luxury in being understood:  I always feel he knows me clear to the bone, somehow!  But, oh,” she sighed regretfully, “doesn’t a uniform become a man?  They ought to all wear ’em.  It would look silly on such a little goat as that Wade Trumble, though:  nothing could make him look like a whole man.  Did you see him glaring at me?  Beast!  I was going to be so nice and kittenish and do all my prettiest tricks for him, to help Val with his oil company.  Val thinks Wade would come in yet, if I’D only get him in the mood to have another talk with Val about it; but the spiteful little rat wouldn’t come near me.  I believe that was one of the reasons Val laughed at me and pretended not to mind my getting proposed to.  He must have minded; he couldn’t have helped minding it, really.  That’s his way; he’s so mean—­he won’t show things.  He knows me.  I can’t keep anything from him; he reads me like a signboard; and then about himself he keeps me guessing, and I can’t tell when I’ve guessed right.  Ray Vilas behaved disgustingly, of course; he was horrid and awful.  I might have expected it.  I suppose Richard was wailing his tiresome sorrows on your poor shoulder——­”

“No,” said Laura.  “He was very cheerful.  He seemed glad you were having a good time.”

“He didn’t look particularly cheerful at me.  I never saw so slow a man:  I wonder when he’s going to find out about that pendant.  Val would have seen it the instant I put it on.  And, oh, Laura! isn’t George Wattling funny?  He’s just soft!  He’s good-looking though,” she continued pensively, adding, “I promised to motor out to the Country Club with him to-morrow for tea.”

“Oh, Cora,” protested Laura, “no!  Please don’t!”