As they left the club together: “Almost thou persuadest me,” said Annan lightly.
Parting, they shook hands: “No, not I,” said Coltfoot. “Some sorrow will do that.... Or some woman.”
Annan turned down Fifth Avenue much amused.
CHAPTER XVII
EARLY in June Rosalind Shore celebrated the 365th performance of her musical comedy.
She got Annan on the telephone just as he was leaving his house to dine wherever fancy suggested.
“Harry Sneyd is giving a supper dance for me,” she explained, “and he wants a bunch of names that will look well in to-morrow’s papers. Do you mind coming, Barry? Or have you become too darned great to let the public suspect that you know how to frivol?”
“Pity your mother didn’t spank the sarcasm out of you while she was getting busy,” he retorted. “Where is the frivolling and what time?”
“You nice boy! It’s after the show in the directors’ suite at The Looking Glass. Harry’s a director there, also. Mr. Shill let him have the suite. Thank you so much, Barry; I do want all the celebrities I can get, and our publicity department will be grateful to you.”
“Glad you feel that way,” he said drily.