The hint of latent impatience in Jacqueline's voice was not lost on Cynthia; and she resumed her tormenting inquisition:
"How long is it going to take you to catalogue Mr. Desboro's collection?"
"I have several weeks' work, I think—I don't know exactly."
"All winter, perhaps?"
"Possibly."
"Is he always there, darling?"
Jacqueline was visibly annoyed: "He has happened to be, so far. I believe he is going South very soon—if that interests you."
"'Phone me when he goes," retorted Cynthia, unbelievingly.
"What makes you say such things!" exclaimed Jacqueline. "I tell you he isn't that kind of a man."
"Read the Tattler, dearest!"