"What is that?" the other asked.
"Why, out on the steps to-night, after father had gone in, Dick seemed very much depressed. He was worried about something, and I determined to discover what it was. What do you think? The silly fellow was really upset by the money father has recently made; he never has liked the idea of marrying an heiress, and, you see, I am more of one now than I was a month ago."
"Somehow, I don't read him that way," Miss Langley mused, "but I may be wrong. So it is really settled?"
"Yes, it is settled. It was the common-sense thing to do. I am going to put Andy out of my mind. Poor boy! he is lovely, isn't he? What do you think he will do about it, Kitty?"
"Mope around like a sick cat for a month," the girl answered; "then he will marry some one else, and wonder what on earth he ever saw in you to be daft about."
"I don't believe it," Irene said, firmly. "Kitty, that boy will never marry; he will never love any other woman. If I thought he would--" Irene hesitated, a deepening stare in her eyes.
"You'd not marry Dick--Poof! Wouldn't you be a pretty idiot? If you read as many novels as I do you'd know that sentimental, puppy love is a delusion and a snare. Let it alone. You and Dick Mostyn are doing the only rational thing. You will be an ideal couple. Gosh, I wish I had some of the money you will have!"