“Not even the right one?”
“Least of all the right one.”
Noel got up and stretched himself.
“Well, old dear,” he said, “I’ll make a prophecy. When you meet the right man—hateful phrase—you’ll cut the entanglements, climb the barricades, and give yourself up to the enemy. That is, if I know anything of my sister Judy.”
“You don’t. But you’re an old darling just the same. Are you in or out?”
“Out. Dining at the club with Gordon. His show! But I’m coming home early. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Only I’m dining with the Bennetts, and they usually send me home in the Heavenly Chariot, so I think I may as well pick you up at the club.”
“Do. I’ll amuse myself somehow till you come.”
“About ten-thirty or eleven,” she told him. “And be on the look-out.”
“Right-o.” He walked to the door and then turned. “And think over what I’ve said, old girl.”