"What's the matter with you, John? Rita, isn't he coming? I've a taxi outside ruining me."
"John has a bad cold and doesn't care to go—"
"Yes, I do!" growled John.
"And he doesn't care to risk contracting pneumonia," continued Rita icily, "and he isn't going, anyway. And if he behaves like a man instead of an overgrown baby, I have promised to stay and dine with him here. Otherwise I'll go with you."
"Sure. You'd better stay indoors, John. You ought to buck up and get rid of that cold. It's been hanging on all winter."
Burleson rumbled and grumbled and shot a mutinous glance at Rita, who paid it no attention.
"Order us a nice dinner at the Plaza, Kelly—if you don't mind," she said cheerfully, going with them to the door. She added under her breath: "I wish he'd see a doctor, but the idea enrages him. I don't see why he has such a cold all the time—and such flushed cheeks—" Her voice quivered and she checked herself abruptly.
"Suppose I ring up Dr. Colbert on my own hook?" whispered Neville.
"Would you?"
"Certainly. And you can tell John that I did it on my own responsibility."