"Waitin' for the rain to let up?"
"No, foolish; I'm posing for a statue of Patience by a sculptor who's going to be born tomorrow."
This answer was brilliantly in accord with the humour of the day. Austin chuckled appreciatively.
"I thought maybe you was waitin' for Jeems to bring around your limousine, Miss Thursby."
"I was, but he won't be here till day before yesterday."
The strain of such repartee proved too much for Austin; he felt himself outclassed and, shuffling to cover his discomfiture, sought another subject.
"Whacha doing tonight, Joan? Anythin' special?"
"I've got an engagement to pass remarks on the weather with the Dook de Bonehead," the girl returned with asperity. "He ain't late, either."
"I guess that was one off the griddle, all right," said Austin pensively. "Excuse me for livin'."
There fell a pause, Joan contemptuously staring away through the glimmering rain-drops, Austin desperately casting about for a conversational opening less calculated than its predecessors to educe rebuffs.