Then O'Reilly admitted: "I'm not
seriously concerned over that part of it, either, for you are the
best judge of what is right and proper. What does concern me,
however, is the effect all this may have upon you, yourself.
You're impractical, romantic"--Norine laughed shortly, but he went
on, stubbornly--"and just the sort of girl to be carried away by
some extravagant impulse."
"What makes you think I'm impractical and romantic?"
"You wouldn't be here, otherwise."
"Very well. What are you trying to get at? What do you mean by
'some extravagant impulse'?"
"I'm afraid"--O'Reilly hesitated, then voiced a fear which had
troubled him more than he cared to acknowledge--"I'm afraid of
some silly entanglement, some love affair--"
Norine's laughter rang out, spontaneous, unaffected. It served to
relieve the momentary tension which had sprung up between them.
"All these men are attracted to you, as it is quite natural they
should be," O'Reilly hurried on. "I'm worried to death for fear
you'll forget that you're too blamed good for any of them."
"What a conscientious duenna you are!" she told him, "but rest
easy; I'm thoroughly homesick, and ready to flunk it all at the
first good excuse. I'll make you a promise, Johnnie. If I decide
to fall in love with any of these ragged heroes I'll choose you.
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