"O, that's another thing ... He never was interested in me, I know that."
There was a knock at the door. "Come!" called the Worthington girl. The bellboy came in with a telegram on a plate.
"All right, bring it here; thanks."
It was a creamfaced boy with a snub nose. Nan watched a tense, adoring look come into his eyes as he put the plate within the Worthington girl's reach. That's how she does it. The boy left the room hurriedly, flushing as if her smile stung. With languid fingers she crumpled the telegram.
"You must excuse me," she said. "Isn't it wretched being in a hotel this way? They never give you any peace ... Did you ever study music in Paris, Miss Taylor?"
"No, only in Boston."
"I was wondering if they were as stupid over there about it as they are here. Isn't it hopeless?" She laughed happily, cuddling into the corner of the sofa and taking little bites out of a cream cornucopia. "Still, we'll see what turns up."
"Who are you studying with?"
"O, that's the great question ... It's really more difficult than getting married. I have to look them over and they have to look me over."
Nan began to put on her gloves.