“All right,” she agreed, unruffled. “Let’s you and me have luncheon together.”
“Very well.”
“I’ll call for you at twelve.”
Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some parting pleasantry.
“Well”—he began awkwardly.
They both turned to him.
“Well, we—we had an exciting time earlier in the evening.”
The two men exchanged glances.
“You should have come earlier,” continued Bartholomew, somewhat encouraged. “We had a regular vaudeville.”
“Did you really?”