Thinking of this, Forbes said:
"I'm mighty glad you're not leaving town."
"But I am."
"With your father, I mean. You're leaving town with me, instead."
She looked him in the eye with some surprise.
"It's a good thing we put the blame for that luncheon on Mrs. Neff. It tickled her to death and—do you know that Willie really thinks you're flirting with her—or aiming at Alice? He can't tell which." She laughed deliciously. It did not grieve her to fool Willie.
The cab rocked in the wind, and the rain beat upon it with the sound of waves protesting against the rush of a yacht's prow. Forbes caught a glimpse of a street sign. It warned him that they were already passing Fiftieth Street. In a few minutes they would be at her home.
"I'm not flirting with anybody," he said. "I'm adoring you."
A little frown of bewilderment troubled the smile she gave him. She felt his hand on hers and tried to draw it away, but he held it fast.
"We're not at the opera, you know," she said. "That noise isn't the music of 'Tristan and Isolde.' That's rain."