"Golly! Not enough men in it. And your Model idea would have to be carried out in dark secrecy. Mother would poison me!"
"You carry out a number of things in secrecy with complete success."
"Pff! Not what you think. I know my market value."
Twinkle's dark gaze became fixed and speculative. "Any of your folk ever died in an asylum?" she enquired suddenly.
"I suppose you are being funny. But, as a matter of fact, my grandmother's sister did, and there was an uncle, who gore-ily cut his throat, of unsound mind. Why? Do I look as if I meditated such a drastic solution of my problems?"
Twinkle decisively knocked out her cigarette and stood up.
"Never mind.... Curiosity, I guess."
Muriel became dimly interested in this dispassionate friend's disapproval of something.
"Do I fill you with disgust?"
"No—with pity," was the unexpected reply. "You don't understand what you are up against, Muriel. But I've seen types like you before; and they are born, not made."