“Oh,” said Dallas in that deep restful leisurely voice of hers, “there are always between twenty and thirty”—she slapped a quick scarlet line on the board, rubbed it out at once—“thousand people in and out of here every hour, just about. I like it. Friends around me while I’m slaving.”
“Gosh!” he thought, “she’s—— I don’t know—she’s——”
“Shall we go?” said Paula.
He had forgotten all about her. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready if you are.”
Outside, “Do you think you’re going to like the picture?” Paula asked. They stepped into her car.
“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t tell much about it at this stage, I suppose.”
“Back to your office?”
“Sure.”
“Attractive, isn’t she?”
“Think so?”