“Little Darcy Cole.”
“Oh”—vaguely—“I don’t know.”
Gloria sighed.
“Why the effect of hopelessness?” inquired Tom Harmon.
“Oh, nothing. Only, you don’t seem to use your eyes much.”
“I was using them to the best of purposes,” declared Mr. Harmon indignantly. “Considering that I haven’t set them on you for nearly a month, you can’t expect me to waste time on casual flappers in fancy-dress costumes. Be fair, Gloria.”
“Darcy isn’t a casual flapper.”
“What is she, then? A coming genius?”
“A reigning beauty and heart-wrecker of the future.”
“Good Lord!” said Mr. Harmon with such fervor that Gloria sighed again.