"But what tommyrot ... You know perfectly well how I feel about my career."
"Of course, dear, of course," said Fitzie nibbling at a piece of toast. "You'll be interested in what Mabel has to say about that. She's made more of a career than any of the girls in our time at the Conservatory."
"I don't mean quite that by career," said Nan laughing.
"Of course not, you are much too wellbred, dearest ... But could you go tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow ... But, how about Saturday?"
Nan gulped down a cup of weak milky tea with relief. The chatter at the tables round about and the smothered selection from the Arcadians out of the victrola in the corner of the tearoom sucked all the remaining energy out of her so that she sat limp, staring at her friend's new red hat. Utterly ridiculous, like a redbird, she was thinking.
"Why not tomorrow?" insisted Fitzie. "I shall be dreadfully busy Saturday. It'll be my last useful day. We leave Sunday night. Isn't it too wonderful! Think of the places I'll see and the people I'll meet and everything ... Of course it'll be exhausting too."
"I almost wish I were going with you."
"But you can't have engagements all day tomorrow, Nancibel."
"I'm going to stay in the house tomorrow."