“Say! That’s the spirit!” Tim voiced his approval in no uncertain tones. “But you’ll come, in the end—I know you will. New York. Ever dream of that great city?”
“Yes, yes, often.”
“And the radio? Coast to coast?”
“Yes, that too.”
“Then you’ll come and you’ll have much more to tell.”
“Will I?” The girl wondered and shuddered.
“Here’s my card.” He thrust a pasteboard square into her hand. “Guard it with care.”
“Next to my heart!” she laughed as she thrust it deep into her blouse pocket.
Then she caught Jeanne’s call, “Florence, where are you?”
“I’m off,” she breathed. “We sail at once—‘Ships that pass in the night.’”