He heard courteously, he answered wisely, he
considered soberly, he decided impartially. Added to this, he was one
whom kings could not corrupt.' That is an enviable record."
Claire's eyes filled with grateful moisture, but she did not allow them
to overflow. She nodded rapidly once or twice in a quaint,
characteristic little fashion, and then sat silent, examining the links
in her silver-meshed purse, with elaborate attention.
"Perhaps Mrs. Slawson has told you that my young nephew is something of
a pickle."
The question restored Claire at once. "I'm fond of pickles."
"Good! I believe there are said to be fifty-eight varieties. Are you
prepared to smack your lips over him, whichever he may be?"
"Well, if I can't smack my lips, there's always the alternative of
smacking _him_."
Mr. Ronald laughed. "Not allowed," he announced regretfully. "My sister
won't have it. Radcliffe is to be guided 'by love alone.'"
"Whose love, please? His or mine?"
Again Mr. Ronald laughed. "Now you've got me!" he admitted.
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