"It might depend a little upon the state of your finances," Bobby suggested.
"Oh; but it is for charity, you know."
"Yes, charity is supposed to be like molasses, sweet and cheap. It isn't very nourishing to a professional man, though."
"But Mr. Thayer is not poor."
"That doesn't signify that he can give all his time for nothing," Bobby answered rather warmly, considering that the question was utterly impersonal. "If he sang every day, all winter, for some charity or other, he couldn't begin to get round in ten years. There ought to be a new mission started, a Society for the Protection of Over-begged Artists."
"But I am only asking him for one charity."
"That's all anybody is supposed to do. The time hasn't come yet when you syndicate the job, though I suppose it is only a matter of time."
Mrs. Lloyd Avalons looked at him distrustfully for a moment; then she laughed with a dainty vagueness.
"You are so amusing, Mr. Dane! One never really knows whether you're in earnest or not. How many tickets did you say you would take?"
"One and a half," Sally advised, while Bobby stared at Mrs. Lloyd Avalons in speechless disgust. "He will go, and take me with him; but newspaper men are always admitted at half-rates."