"Hello, folks!"
The dancing bantering voice from behind us, with silvery cadence to its laughter, could belong to no one but Enid Faye. I grasped that it was her car which Kennedy leaned upon. I gasped a bit as I saw her directly at my side, her dainty chamois motoring coat brushing my sleeve, the sun which grew in strength every moment casting mottled shadows upon her face through the transparent brim of her bobbing hat, in mocking answer to the mirth in her eyes.
For an instant she gazed after the retreating Marilyn.
"Good-by, Marilyn! DEAR," she called, mega-phoning her hands.
The other girl made no response. Laughing, Enid slipped a hand under my arm, the firm pressure of her fingers thrilling me. She addressed Kennedy, however.
"Do you want a ride in to the city, both of you?"
Kennedy brightened. "That would be fine! How far are you going?"
"The Burrage. I have a luncheon engagement. That's Forty-fourth."
"Can you drop us off at the university?"
"Surely! Climb in. It's a tight fit, three in the seat, but fun.
And"—facing me—"I want Jamie between us, next to me!"