"Not if she hears."

"She's not going to hear."

"Don't be too sure. Women love to boast. It tickles their vanity to have
a man. Yes, they pretend to be madly in love simply to give themselves
the excuse for tattling."

"She'll not hear."

"You can't be sure."

"I want you to help me out. I'm going to tell her I'm tremendously busy
these few next days--or weeks."

"Weeks!" Ursula Fitzhugh laughed. "My, it must be serious!"

"Weeks," repeated her brother. "And I want you to say things that'll
help out--and to see a good deal of her." He flung down his cigar. "You
women don't understand how it is with a man."

"Don't we though! Why, it's a very ordinary occurrence for a woman to be
really in love with several men at once."

His eyes gleamed jealously. "I don't believe it," he cried.

"Not Josephine," she said reassuringly. "She's one of those
single-hearted, untemperamental women. They concentrate. They have no
imagination."