"I think not."
"Ah, do," she wheedled. "Just for a minute."
He turned to look at the broad, rambling house. A dim light burned in the library; a brighter one in Dee's room overhead. Constance's room was dark. He was vaguely glad of that.
"I haven't even thanked you yet," she observed.
"You needn't."
"Then you ought to thank me," she asserted daringly, "for taking Connie's place. Do come in. Perhaps I can find you a drink."
"I don't want a drink, thank you," he returned; but he followed her through the door.
"It's us, Dee," called the girl, projecting her voice up the stairway as she led the way to the library. "Mr. Scott and me."
"All right," Dee responded. "I'm in my nightie or I'd come down. Have a good time?"
"Gee-lorious!" said Pat. She took off her hat, fluffed up her short, heavy hair with a double-handed scuffle characteristic of her, and moved forward to the table.