“Well, that sounds fair enough,” he said reasonably. “And whom have I the pleasure——”
“My name is Glen Darrow.”
“Glen Darrow!” The fair young man repeated it with evident pleasure. “Glen Darrow ... you sound like a piece of Scotch scenery, but you look even nicer than that.”
Glen retrieved her hand gently and rather absently. “This is the spinning room, and this little girl——”
“Gloriana-Virginia and I have already met, thank you very much. Well, Glory,” he spoke to the child who had dipped into her book again, “what’s happening now?”
“Oh, suh, hit’s jes’ so fine hit’s purely my delight! The Prince, he’s jes’ come to the Ogre’s castle and found the Princess!”
The youth in spotless white laughed aloud. “Sounds like a bit out of a Hollywood continuity, doesn’t it?” He looked at Glen with appraisal and approval.
She had not heard him, or at least she had not taken in the sense or the nonsense of his words. “I expect you’ll want to go all through, first, and then take it room by room,” she said absorbedly, “and talk with the hands, after hours, of course, in their homes. I could give you a list——”
But he had not paid any more attention to her words than she had to his. He was looking at her with a growing intentness, and his mind was still on Gloriana-Virginia’s last sentence. “The Prince and the Princess and the Ogre’s castle,” he repeated. “We’re all set! But where’s the Ogre?”
“I could meet you somewhere—” Glen was going on earnestly.