She laid a proprietary arm in his, as they passed through the rainbow glimmer of Oriental lanterns swaying between the lawn trees. "Is Adamsville always as deadly as this? New Orleans is bad enough—but this!"
His throaty chuckle answered her. "I assure you I don't know."
"You live here?"
"I'm not a clubman. Life's too busy."
"Sounds imposing. What do you do, besides dance and use those serious eyes?"
"That's all my regular vocation. At off times I play tennis, wave my hair in the breeze, and inspect mines."
"It's nice hair." She regarded it thoughtfully.
"You can pull it."
With amused tolerance she smoothed it, then yanked it suddenly.
"Ouch! I treasure that."