“That’s all right, sweetness. Sorry I was premature. You take your time about it—take all the time you need. Then give me my answer.”
“I’ll give it to you now,” she said unsteadily.
“I don’t want it now, Eris——” She smiled: “You’ve already had part of it. The rest is this: I’m engaged—or practically so—to a man I’m going to marry some day.... And, as to what you’ve said and done this evening, I’m not very much shocked. They said you were that kind. You look it.... I’m not angry, either. The whole affair is so petty. And you don’t seem to know any better. I think,” she added, “that I’m more bored than annoyed. Good-night, Mr. Smull.”
“Eris!”
“What?”
“If I were divorced would you marry me?”
“No,” she said contemptuously. “And that’s that!”
To the man at the hall door she said: “Please call a taxi for Miss Odell,” and passed on to the silver-rose boudoir where she took her scarf and reticule from a chair and tossed Smull’s orchids onto the dresser.
“Oh, dear,” she thought to herself, “—such cheap, such petty wickedness! If I’m out of a job it will complete the burlesque.”
At the hall door the servant had vanished and Smull stood waiting.