“I like that. Who did you say wrote it?”
The immobile butler, as once before, presented a card for her inspection. Ridgway, with recollections of the previous occasion, ventured to murmur again: “The fairy prince.”
Virginia blushed to her hair, and this time did not offer the card for his disapproval.
“Shall I congratulate him?” he wanted to know.
The imperious blood came to her cheeks on the instant. The sudden storm in her eyes warned him better than words.
“I’ll be good,” he murmured, as Lyndon Hobart came into the room.
His goodness took the form of a speedy departure. She followed him to the door for a parting fling at him.
“In your automobile you may reach a telegraph-office in about five minutes. With luck you may be engaged inside of an hour.”
“You have the advantage of me by fifty-five minutes,” he flung back.
“You ought to thank me on your knees for having saved you a wretched scene this afternoon,” was the best she could say to cover her discomfiture.