THE MAN OF THE EVENING.
To be perfectly fair, it was not that Dorice gave me too few instructions, but rather too many.
"I'm over at Naughton," she said through the telephone; "I'm staying with some people named Perry."
"How ripping of you to ring me up!" I said, flattered; "it's heavenly to hear your voice, even if I can't see you."
It was a pretty little speech, but Dorice ignored it.
"There is a dance on here, to-night," she continued hastily, "and at the last minute they are short of men, so I've promised to get them someone."
I gripped the receiver firmly and groaned. I knew what was coming.
Dorice proposed that I should leave the office instantly and catch the next train to Naughton.
She adopted rushing tactics with which it was practically impossible to cope.