“Temptress!” Mason charged.
She said, “If you’d drive right to the beach, we could catch the first plane over.”
Mason turned the steering wheel of his automobile toward Wilmington. “I think,” he said, “this is the direction of the office, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, keep going straight ahead,” she said.
“I’m a little dopey this morning,” Mason confessed, “so I’ll have to rely on you. If we should get lost, we’d have to telephone the office and explain to Gertie.”
“Gertie’s a good sport. You don’t have to explain things to her. She’ll stall off any clients.”
“You’re acting as though we were going to get lost,” Mason said.
“No, indeed. You’re headed for the office right now. Listen, you’ve been holding out on me again.”
“No. Honest I haven’t.”
“On Rebecca?”