"At Brighton?" Marie smiled across at Osborn.
He nodded. "I told you I was going."
"Do you like the car?" Marie asked Roselle sweetly.
"She's a duck," said the other woman, her eyes snapping, "but of course yesterday wasn't my first acquaintance with her. I know her every trick well. When we were in New York people were so struck by her neatness in traffic."
Osborn started involuntarily, exclaiming as involuntarily:
"Roselle!"
"What?" she asked, turning a stare upon him.
He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Don't be an ass," he said. "Marie—"
"What, dear?" asked his wife.
Again he fidgeted. "When Miss Dates mentions being in New York—" he began.