"Dinner with me," said Ogilvy, fondly. But she turned up her dainty nose:
"Have you anything more interesting to offer, Mr. Annan?"
"Only my heart, hand, and Ogilvy's fortune," said Annan, regretfully.
"But I believe Archie Allaire was looking for a model of your type—"
"I don't want to pose for Mr. Allaire," said the girl, pouting and twirling the handle of her parasol.
But neither Annan nor Ogilvy could use her then; and Neville had just finished a solid week of her.
"What I'll do," she said with decision, "will be to telephone John
Burleson. I never knew him to fail a girl in search of an engagement."
"Isn't he a dear," said Valerie, smiling. "I adore him."
She sat at the piano, running her fingers lightly over the keyboard, listening to what was being said, watching with happy interest everything that was going on around her, and casting an occasional glance over her shoulder and upward to where Neville stood at work.
"John Burleson," observed Rita, looking fixedly at Ogilvy, "is easily the nicest man I know."
"Help!" said Ogilvy, feebly.