“Did you win anything?” Denby asked.
“Enough to buy some presents at Cartier’s,” she returned. “I’ve bought something very sweet for Nora Rutledge,” she said, turning to Monty. “Aren’t you curious to know what? It’s a pearl la vallière.”
“Then for Heaven’s sake, declare it!” Monty cried.
“Oh, no,” she said, “I’ll pay if it’s found, but it’s a sporting risk to take and you can’t make me believe smuggling’s wrong. Michael says it’s a Democratic device to rob Republican women.”
“Ask Mr. Denby,” Monty retorted. “He knows.”
“And what do you know, Mr. Denby?” she demanded.
“That the customs people and the state department see no humor in that sort of a joke any longer. You read surely that society women even have been imprisoned for taking sporting risks?”
“Milliners who make a practice of getting things through on their annual trip,” she said lightly. “Of course one wouldn’t make a business of it, but I’ve always smuggled little things through and I always shall.”
“Well, I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Monty. “Mr. Denby has frightened me.”
Alice Harrington looked at him curiously.