“Why, Jack, what's this I hear about your not coming to my dance? It isn't true, is it?” She was close to him now, her little head cocked on one side, her thin, silken draperies dripping about her slender figure.
“Who told you?”
“Parkins told Hortense.”
“Leaky Parkins?” laughed Jack, tossing his hat on the hall table.
“But you are coming, aren't you, Jack? Please do!”
“Not to-night; you don't need me, Corinne.” His voice told her at once that not only was the leash gone but that the collar was off as well.
“Yes, but I do.”
“Then please excuse me, for I have an old gentleman coming to pay me a visit. The finest old gentleman, by the way, you ever saw! A regular thoroughbred, Corinne—who looks like a magnificent portrait!” he added in his effort to interest her.
“But let him come some other time,” she coaxed, holding the lapel of his coat, her eyes searching his.
“What, turn to the wall a magnificent old portrait!” This came with a mock grimace, his body bent forward, his eyes brimming with laughter.