XIII—The Marquis
“Mrs. Clephane will be right down, Mr. Harleston,” said the telephone operator.
A moment later the elevator flashed into sight, and Mrs. Clephane stepped out and came forward with the languorously lithe step, perfectly in keeping with her slender figure. She wore a dark blue street suit, and under her small hat her glorious hair flamed like an incandescent aureole. She greeted Harleston with an intimate little nod and smile.
“You’re good to come!” she said.
“To myself, I think I’m more than good,” he answered.
“No, no, sir!” she smiled. “No more compliments between us, if we’re to be friends.”
“We’re to be friends,” he returned.
“Ergo,” she replied. “Sit down just a minute, will you?”
“I’ll sit down for a month, if you’re—”
“Ergo! Ergo!” she reminded him.