“Yes,” said Patty, in a simpering tone.
“Oh, yes! I can’t see you, but I know you have your finger in your mouth and your eyes shyly cast down.”
“You’re so clever!” murmured Patty, giggling. “But now you may go, Ken, for I don’t want to talk to you any more. Come round Thursday night, can’t you, and welcome me home?”
“Pooh, you’re late with your invitation. Mrs. Fairfield has already invited me to dinner that very evening.”
“Good! Well, good-by for now. I have reasons for wishing to discontinue this conversation.”
“And I have reasons for wishing to keep on. If you’re tired talking, sing to me.”
“‘Thou art so near and yet so far,’” hummed Patty, in her clear, sweet voice.
“No, don’t sing. Central will think you’re a concert. Well, good-by till Thursday.”
“Good-by,” said Patty, and hung up the receiver.
But she felt much more cheerful at having talked with Kenneth, and the coming days seemed easier to bear.