“I do believe,” she said slowly, “that I’ve knocked some sparks out of you at last.”
“You would knock sparks out of a putty dog,” Martin retorted wrathfully.
She took hat and stick away from him and laid them on the bamboo table. “Don’t let us quarrel,” she said more graciously. “Sit down again and finish your story. You said something about Egypt and Fortinbras going with you. Why Egypt?”
“Why not?” asked Martin.
“I suppose Fortinbras pointed a prophetic finger. ‘There lies the road to happiness.’ But what is he doing there himself?”
“He is going to talk to the Sphinx,” said Martin.
“And when you’ve spent all your capital in riotous living, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” said he.
“Well, it’s your business, not mine,” said Corinna. “You’re lucky to be able to get out of this beastly climate. I wish I could.”
They talked for a while the generalities of travel. Then he asked her to dine with him and go to a theatre. This brought her back to herself. She couldn’t. She had no time. All her evenings were taken up with meetings which she had to attend. And she hadn’t an evening gown fit to wear.