"No."
"I thought you had a date with Jimmy James for all the Saturday dances."
"So did he," replied Dee calmly. "He was getting too proprietary. So I turned him down."
"War is hell," observed her sister with apparent irrelevance.
"Besides, de Severin is coming over from Washington for an early round of golf."
"So that's it. Paul de Severin could give me quite a thrill if he went at it right."
"Not me. I've never seen the man that could, either. Something must have been left out of my make-up when I was built."
"Sometimes I wish it had been left out of mine," said the beauty. "And other times," she added gaily, "I don't. By the way, I'm likely to be in pretty late. So don't let Dad lock me out, will you?"
"I thought they still pulled the midnight rule for the Saturday night dances."
"So they do. But the Grants are having a small-and-early afterward. Somebody slipped Will Grant a case of Bacardi." She sealed her letter with a thump and tossed it into a silver-wicker basket.