But his only answer was her lowered head and the faint smile edging her lips, and the "Spring Song," low, clear, exquisitely persistent in the hush.
When the last note died out in the stillness Rita emphasised the finish with the ferrule of her parasol and rose with decision:
"I require several new frocks," she said, "and how am I to acquire them unless I pose for somebody? Good-bye, Mr. Neville—bye-bye! Sam—good-bye, Mr. Annan—good-bye, dear,"—to Valerie—"if you've nothing better on hand drop in this evening. I've a duck of a new hat."
The girl nodded, and, as Rita Tevis walked out, turning up her nose at Ogilvy who opened the door for her, Valerie glanced up over her shoulder at Neville:
"I don't believe you are going to need me to-day after all, are you?" she asked.
"No," he said, absently. "I've a lot of things to do. You needn't stay,
Miss West."
"Now will you be good!" said Annan, smiling at her with his humourous, bantering air. And to his surprise and discomfiture he saw the least trace of annoyance in her dark eyes.
"Come up to the studio and have a julep," he said with hasty cordiality. "And suppose we dine together at Arrowhead—if you've nothing else on hand—"
She shook her head—the movement was scarcely perceptible. The smile had returned to her lips.
"Won't you, Miss West?"