"I know; he always said he did, and that's what makes it so astounding; and yet I'm sure I'm right, I can see it in his eye." Richard whistled. "Will she have him, do you think?" "I don't know. Elizabeth is not an ordinary woman; sometimes I think she's rather strange. I love her, but I don't understand her--she's not very happy, I think." "Will Lawrence make her happy, Mother?" She paused. "Well--he'll make her comfortable," she compromised. They laughed again. "Poor old Lawrence," he said. "He's the best fellow in the world, but quite the very dullest; I can't think how you produced him, darling." "I can't think how I produced you!" she retorted. CHAPTER TWENTY 1 DURING the weeks that followed, Joan managed to visit the Bensons on every available opportunity, or so it seemed to her mother. Mrs. Benson, lavish in invitations, encouraged the intimacy between Joan and Richard, and watched with amusement the rather pathetic and clumsy efforts of her elder son to win Elizabeth. Mrs. Ogden searched her heart and found no consolation. She had very little doubt that Joan and Richard were falling in love; they were very young of course, especially Joan, but she felt that Joan had never really been young, that she was a creature with whom age did not count and could not be relied upon to minimize or intensify a situation. She became retrospective, looking back into her own dim past, recalling her own courtship and mating. The burning days of Indian sunshine, the deep, sweet-smelling Indian nights with their melodramatic stars, the garden parties, the balls, the picnics, and the thin young Englishmen who had thought her beautiful; she remembered their tanned faces, serious with new responsibilities.