“What were you doing there?”
She twisted her head in the pillows and replied, demurely:
“Oh, I was sitting among the medical wives and daughters.”
Cub laughed again, and the timbre of it made her blush. She said quickly:
“Truth is, if you remember, Doctor, that dinner took place the day after New Years. I was in the Press box pinch-hitting for ... believe it or not ... the star reporter!”
“Queer I didn’t see you.” The tone carried admiration.
“You couldn’t very well. I was behind a curtain trying to keep up with your father’s mental ball-bearings.”
“They roll,” Cub said admiringly, then he asked, slowly:
“What’s your name ... really...?”
Her mouth twitched slightly: