"I wonder who press-agented Sargent," murmured Bobs. "We all think it is a crime for Jerry to give his time to these portraits," she added.
"You don't like his portraits, Miss Roberts?"
"I think a portrait by Jerry Paxton, savin' yer prisince, is a brilliant, shallow tour de force. He's got the clever knack of making people look patrician. It is the most flattering thing a portrait painter can do to you."
"Bobs, behave yourself," said Jane. "This is one of her hobbies, Mrs. Brendon; don't listen to her."
"I'm sure you think your husband's portraits are wonderful," her guest reassured her.
"I'm no critic," Jane evaded.
"Hypocritttt!" Bob hissed in Jane's ear.
Eleven o'clock came but no sign of the other two. Bobs yawned openly; Mrs. Brendon stifled hers.
"Where do you suppose they have gone?" she said finally.
"Maybe they're gone off in the motor boat."