Cyrus the Gaunt saw very little of her in the brief hour remaining to him. One dance he succeeded in claiming.
“You see,” he remarked, “I came to your party anyway, although uninvited.”
“I didn't give it. It was a surprise,” she explained. “But the job?”
“They've put me on an hour later.”
“You still like it?”
“It limits one socially more than being a model,” he replied solemnly.
“But you are sticking to it?” she persisted.
“Oh, yes, I'm sticking to it, all right.”
“Even if—No matter what happens?”
“What is going to happen?” he asked gravely.