“You had your letter stolen.”
“Only half of it!” she retorted gaily. “She is a gallant little thing, your friend Dulcie. Please give her my love. As for your other friends, they were amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about an engagement.”
“Why don’t you consider it? Corot Mandel is the most important producer in New York.”
“Is he, really? Well, if I’m not interfered with perhaps I shall go to call on Mr. Mandel.” She began to laugh mischievously to herself: “There was one man there who never gave me a moment’s peace until I promised to lunch with him at the Ritz.”
“Who the devil——”
“Mr. Westmore,” she said demurely.
“Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he’s a corker. 184 He’s really a splendid fellow, but look out for him! He’s also a philanderer.”
“Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and a rather strenuous young man.”
“I wasn’t knocking him,” said Barres, laughing, “but he falls in love with every pretty woman he meets. I’m merely warning you.”
“Thank you, Garry,” she smiled. She gave him her hand again, pulled the rose-coloured cloak around her bare shoulders, ran across the sidewalk to the taxi, and whispered to the driver.