"You can't! What an idea!"
"Why not? What are you going to do?"
"There's no particular reason why I should detail my daily duties, obligations, and engagements to you; is there?—But I'm an unusually kind-hearted person, and not easily offended by people's inquisitiveness. So I'll overlook your bad manners. First, then, I am lunching at the Province Club, then I am going to a matinée at the Casino, afterward dropping in for tea at the Sprowls, dining at the Calderas, going to the Opera with the Vernons, and afterward, with them, to a dance at the Van Dynes.... So, will you kindly inform me where you enter the scene?"
She could hear him laugh over the telephone.
"What are you doing just now?" he asked.
"I am seated upon my innocent nocturnal couch, draped in exceedingly intimate attire, conversing over the telephone with the original Paul Pry."
"Could anything induce you to array yourself more conventionally, receive me, and let me take you to your luncheon at the Province Club?"
"But I don't wish to see you."
"Is that perfectly true?"
"Perfectly. I've just thrown your gardenia into the fireplace. Doesn't that prove it?"