“Home. I just couldn’t stand it.”
“Stand what?”
“Being away from you.”
“Good heavens!”
“It’s been the other place to me.”
“Really?”
“I told Dad I needed a rest; that something was the matter with my mind. He admitted that, but blamed it to lack of use. Then I ducked. I shipped my car to New York, and flew down the Motor Parkway to here. Got here yesterday. Been hanging round, trying to find you alone. Swell chance! There’s a swarm after you all the time, isn’t there?”
“Is there?”
“Last night I saw you dancing at the hotel with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. I hoped you’d come out and sit on the piazza so that I could sandbag the man and carry you off. But you didn’t.”
“No.”