"Then me for the celestial section. Ogilvy gave me the name of a place"—he fumbled about—"Rita has it, I believe…. Isn't she a corker to go? My conscience, Kelly, what a Godsend it will be to have a Massachusetts girl out there to talk to!"
"Isn't she going as your model?"
"My Lord, man! Don't you talk to a model? Is a nice girl who poses for a fellow anything extra-human or superhuman or—or unhuman or inhuman—so that intelligent conversation becomes impossible?"
"No," began Neville, laughing, but Burleson interrupted excitedly:
"A girl can be anything she chooses if she's all right, can't she? And
Rita comes from Massachusetts, doesn't she?"
"Certainly."
"Not only from Massachusetts, but from Hitherford!" added Burleson triumphantly. "I came from Hitherford. My grandfather knew hers. Why, man alive, Rita Tevis is entitled to do anything she chooses to do."
"That's one way of looking at it, anyway," admitted Neville gravely.
"I look at it that way. You can't; you're not from Massachusetts; but you have a sort of a New England name, too. It's Yankee, isn't it?"
"Southern."