"Dorrie, you absolutely must get off that habit of carving your
own kin in order to keep up the edge of your tongue. I wouldn't as much as
intimate it, by denying it, that you get your meddling commission from
Lana. If this is all you wanted to talk about, I'll have to be going. This
is my busy evening!"
"Just one moment! It's always the busiest man who has time to attend to
one thing more! I'm assuming that you love Lana."
"Conceded! You always did have a good eye in that line, Dorrie!"
"Then my advice, as an expert, ought to be respected. You go ahead and get
a promise from Lana Corson. Then you'll have somebody working for your
interests day and night."
"Who?"
"Her New England conscience!"
Young Mr. Daunt gave his sister a long, searching, and sophisticated
stare. "I think I have a little the advantage of you, Dorrie. I met to-day
this Mr. Stewart Morrison you're speaking of!"
"I haven't spoken of him! I haven't mentioned his name!"
"Oh, didn't you?" purred the brother. "Then I must have anticipated what
you were going to say, or else I read your mind for the name--and that
only shows that the Daunt family's members are thoroughly _en rapport_, to
use dad's favorite phrase when he's showing the strawberry mark on ideas
and making the other fellow adopt 'em as his own children.
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