He admitted it. "One can't marry them all."

"I wonder if you are ever serious," she told him, her chin in her hand.

"I am always serious. That's what makes it interesting----"

"But the poor little--hearts?"

"Some one has to teach them," said George, "that it's a pretty game----"

"Will it be always a game--to you--Georgie?"

"Who knows?" he said. "So far I've held trumps----"

"Your conceit is colossal, but somehow you seem to get away with it."
She smiled and stood, up. "I'm going to bed early. I have been losing
my beauty sleep lately, Georgie."

He chose to be gallant. "You are not losing your beauty, if that's
what you mean."

Her dinner gown was of the same shade of mauve that she had worn in the
afternoon. But it was of a material so sheer that the gold of her skin
seemed to shine through.

"Good-night, Golden Girl," said Dalton, and kissed the tips of her
fingers as she stood on the stairs. Then he went off to join the
others.