“Why?” and Gail, whose feet were stretched out and crossed, in lazy ease, looked up at her aunt sidewise from under her curving lashes.
Mrs. Davies hesitated a moment.
“Houston Van Ploon would like to call.”
“Are they still downstairs?” Gail suddenly unveiled her eyes, and brought her slippers squarely in front of her divan. Also she sat bolt upright.
“Yes,” and Mrs. Davies betrayed signs of nervousness.
“Are they making the appointment for Houston?”
“Yes.” The word drawled.
“Why?” and Gail’s brown eyes began to crackle.
Mrs. Davies thought it better to sit down.
“My dear, a great honour has come to you.”