"Don't be foolish," said Jacqueline. "It is his car and his collection, and I'm having a perfectly good time with both."
"And with him, too? Yes?"
"If you knew him you wouldn't talk that way."
"I know who he is."
"Do you?" said Jacqueline calmly.
"Yes, I do. He's the 'Jim' Desboro whose name you see in the fashionable columns. I know something about that young man," she added emphatically.
Jacqueline looked up at her with dawning displeasure. Cynthia, undisturbed, bit into a chocolate and waved one pretty hand:
"Read the Tattler, as I do, and you'll see what sort of a man your young man is."
"I don't care to read such a——"
"I do. It tells you funny things about society. Every week or two there's something about him. You can't exactly understand it—they put it in a funny way—but you can guess. Besides, he's always going around town with Reggie Ledyard, and Stuyve Van Alstyne, and—Jack Cairns——"