Then the fun had begun—
At this point, a telephone bell jangled across Janet's reflections.
"Who is it?" she asked the switchboard girl.
"Mr. Pryor."
"Let him come up," said Janet eagerly.
III
As usual, Mark Pryor's spare form was dressed from head to foot in materials of one color. But even Janet noticed that, for once, the inevitable stand-up collar, with its two prongs tilting its wearer's chin upwards, had been replaced by a low-lying collar of creamiest silk.
"Circles under the eyes!" he began severely. "What's wrong?"
"Nightmares, witches, broomsticks," she replied laughing.
"Out with it!" he commanded.