She made him a moue, prettily pouty.
"You'll be sorry, when I'm famous, that you didn't take me seriously."
"How can I take you at all when you've taken me off my feet?"
"You've never heard me sing, have you?"
"No."
"Wait."
"I palpitate."
"I'm going to be all alone now, you know," she said, looking at him with her brilliant eyes filling.
"More's the pity," he said, feeling rather than seeing the downward brush of Lilly's lashes.
"I'll be out at Ida Blair's until—for a while."