"Do you shoot?" he asked, in some surprise.
She nodded, and added modestly;
"But I don't kill many ducks."
"Is there anything you can't do?" he questioned in admiration, then demanded, with the touch of homesickness in his voice, "Are there any mountains down there?"
"I'm afraid we can't provide any mountains," laughed Adrienne. "Just salt marshes—and beyond them, the sea. But there's moonshine—of the natural variety—and a tonic in the wind that buffets you."
"I reckon I'd like it, all right," he said, "and I'll bring you back some ducks, if I'm lucky."
So, Lescott arranged the outfit, and Samson awaited the news of the coming flights.
That same evening, Farbish dropped into the studio, explaining that he had been buying a picture at Collasso's, and had taken the opportunity to stop by and hand Samson a visitor's card to the Kenmore Club.
He found the ground of interest fallow, and artfully sowed it with well-chosen anecdotes calculated to stimulate enthusiasm.
On leaving the studio, he paused to say: