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"Nothing to it," he pronounced.
She said, "Nothing to what?" but abandoned this position as untenable.
She despatched the maid with the key to the wall safe in her husband's
room. "Why isn't there?" she demanded. "Rodney won't look at young
girls. They bore him to death--and no wonder, because he freezes them
perfectly brittle with fright. But Hermione's really pretty intelligent.
She can understand fully half the things he talks about and she's clever
enough to pretend about the rest. She's got lots of tact and skill,
she's good-looking and young enough--no older than I and I'm two years
younger than Roddy. She'll appreciate a real husband, after having been
married five years to John Woodruff. And she's rich enough, now, so that
his wild-eyed way of practising law won't matter."
"All very nice and reasonable," he conceded, "but somehow the notion of
Rodney Aldrich trying to marry a rich widow is one I'm not equal to
without a handicap of at least two cocktails." He looked at his watch
again.


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