“Have you spoken to John about going?” she asked.
“Not since he was here. Haven’t spoken to him at all.”
[200]
] “Big baby!” she laughed.
“Well, he hurt my feelings. I can’t forget the way he gave us the go-by.”
“Then—then why send him abroad?” It came with a sharp intensity. “We can look the ground over when we cross this summer and engage an Englishman.”
“Not on your life! You and John pull too well together. The pair of you will give ’em a taste of real American pep.”
She hesitated, eyes riveted to the vista of cold hills. Suddenly she wheeled round, one hand grasping the drape that bordered the French window. The next words came like a catapult.
“’Dolph, don’t book me for London! I’m not going! I don’t want to play there.”
“You don’t—” Cleeburg’s jaw dropped in sheer amazement.
“No,