"As it happens," returned Colette coldly, "Derry Phillips, for all his
nonsense, is reported to be a true gentleman; but it would make no
difference with Amarilly if he were not. Her inherent goodness would
counteract the evil of any atmosphere. She can take care of his rooms
until she is a little older. Then she can become a model."
"Colette!" he exclaimed protestingly.
"Why not?" she returned. "Why shouldn't Amarilly be a model, or go on
the stage? Neither place would be below her station in life."
John sought refuge in utter silence which admonished and exasperated
Colette far more than any reproof would have done.
"You might as well go, if you have nothing to say," she remarked
stiffly, as he lingered in the portico, evidently expecting an
invitation to enter.
"I have _too_ much to say, Colette."
Her sidelong glance noted his dejection, and her flagging spirits rose
again.
"Too much, indeed, when you are so critical of what I say!"
"Colette, hear me!"
"No, I won't listen--never when you preach!"
"I don't mean to preach, Colette, but don't you think--"
"Good night, John," she said, smiling.
"Good night!" he echoed dolefully, but making no move to leave.
"Colette, will you never tell me?"
"Yes," she replied unexpectedly, with a dancing light in her beautiful
eyes.
"When?"
"When you restore to me what was in the pocket."