“And equally I suppose the handsome husbands think their plain wives beautiful.”
They laughed together, but Muriel raised a warning finger. “We are getting off the point,” she said. “I want to know more about your Betty. Was she dark?”
“What, aren’t you sure? I don’t think much of you as a lover.”
“But I can never remember the color of people’s eyes,” he pleaded. “I can’t remember the color of my mother’s or my aunt’s, or----”
“Quick, shut your eyes; what’s the color of my eyes?”
“Wrong. They’re green. Cat’s eyes. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I shall write and tell your Betty about it.”
“But that’s all over long ago, I told you.”
“It never began,” laughed Roland: “she never cared for me a bit.”
Muriel pouted. “How unromantic,” she said; then added with the quick, mischievous smile, “and how silly of her!”
As he dressed for dinner that evening Roland wondered what perverse impulse had made him speak to Muriel of Betty rather than of Dolly; of either of them rather than of April; of an unsuccessful love affair that was over rather than of a successful one that was in progress. Muriel would far rather have heard of April than of Betty. How she would have pestered him with questions! Where had they met? When had he first known he was in love with her? What had he said to her? How had she answered him? It would have been great fun to confide in her. He had been foolish not to tell her. She was such a jolly girl. She had looked charming as she had sat back holding her knees, with her clear skin and slim boyish figure, and her brightly tinted lips that were always a little parted before her teeth, beautifully even teeth they were, except just at the corner of her mouth where one white tooth slightly overlapped its neighbor. She was the sort of girl that he would like to have had for a sister. He had always regretted that he had not had one, and between Muriel and himself there could have been genuine, open comradeship. She would have been a delightful companion. They would have had such fun going about together to parties, dances and the Oval. She would have received so charmingly his confidence.
And yet, on the whole, he did not know why, he was rather glad that he had not told her about April.