“Surely you can find something better than that.” “What? I can’t teach and I wouldn’t want to, anyway. And what else is there for a girl who doesn’t know anything about anything and whose only cleverness is in trimming hats?” “Start a hat shop.” “You need money for that, Dick.” “You need money for everything. You’ll have to face that, unless you marry it.” “That, too, has been suggested. But it’s not so easy to find some one with money whom you can marry.” Dick’s eyes strayed to the other end of the room. “How about Matthew?” “Matthew hasn’t asked me.” “Shall I tell him to ask you?” teased Dick. “If you like. But he won’t--even though I wouldn’t marry him if he did. I want something a little different from Matthew.” “A shade more jazz.” “A shade more jazz is right!” “Matthew is ruled out.” Matthew turned to call to them. “Who is taking my name in vain?” Fliss crossed the room negligently. “We were discussing,” she told him with her engaging impudence, “the possibility of your marrying me.” “Am I going to do it?” “No. Rest easy. I’ve refused you in advance.” “Because you haven’t enough jazz,” contributed Dick. “Reason enough. But I wonder why I haven’t more of that peculiar quality. Of course it’s always existed under a variety of names so I can’t say I didn’t happen along in the right generation. I never did have it. Perhaps because I had to go to work too young.” “Well, I should have gone to work young, and I always had it,” said Fliss. Cecily was following them amusedly. “And I never had to work at all and I haven’t it.” “Convent training.” “No, look at Madeline. She’s full of the same spirit Fliss is full of.” “And Dick?” “Dick’s a jazzer thrown into high company,” mocked Fliss. “Dick’s a jazzer--reformed.” Dick put his arm about his wife’s shoulders and drew her close to him. “You’re all wrong. Jazzing or whatever you call it is purely a matter of age. When you draw near thirty you get over it, just as the average man gets over tennis.” “But I’m not thirty.” “No,” said Dick, looking down at her tenderly, “but you’ve other fish to fry. Besides you can’t be classified.” “French model, one only.” Fliss could always be counted on to remain flippant. The others caught her note with amusement.