"Which is, of course, the best possible course for a finished product like you."
"Oh, well! Who cares? I don't."
"Then why come to me?"
"I don't think I'm getting everything out of—of things that I might," said Pat plaintively.
"That's the beginning of wisdom. Why this divine discontent? Have the movies begun to pall?"
"Oh, have you seen Doug Fairbanks in his last? He's too flawless."
"Evidently they haven't begun to pall. If I could be assured of its being his last I would gladly go to see the too-flawless Doug. But my dull artistic appreciations do not rise above Charley Chaplin. But we wander. We were discussing your way-way inside, weren't we? Why its sudden discomposure?"
"I thought you could tell me. You know so much, Bobs. I'm getting bored with the things I used to like. I think it's talking with Mr. Scott. He's so different, and he makes the rest seem dull."
"Yes; Scott is a bit of a prig," said Osterhout with intention.
"He isn't!" flashed Pat indignantly. "He's the best dressed man at the club. Jimmie James says so." As the physician smiled at this naïve refutation she added: "Well, a man can't be a prig and look the way Mr. Scott always does, can he?"