Part 33 (1/2)
”Yes, I am Alick Craven. Who is it, please?”
”Don't you know?”
”One minute! Is it--I'm afraid I don't.”
”Beryl Van Tuyn.”
”Of course! I knew the voice at once, but somehow I couldn't place it.
How are you, Miss Van Tuyn?”
”Dangerously well.”
”That's splendid.”
”And you?”
”I'm what dull people call very fit and cheery.”
”How dreadful! Now, tell me--are you engaged to-night? I'm sure you aren't, because I want you to take me to dine at the _Bella Napoli_.
We agreed to tell each other when we were free. So I take you at your word.”
”Oh, I'm awfully sorry!”
”What?”
”I'm ever so sorry.”
”Why?”
”I have a dinner engagement to-night.”
”What a bore! But surely you can get out of it?”
”I'm afraid not. No, really I can't.”
”Send an excuse! Say you are ill.”
”I can't honestly. It's--it's rather important. Besides, the fact is, I'm the host.”
”Oh!”
The timbre of Miss Van Tuyn's voice changed slightly at this crisis in the conversation.
”Oh--if you're the host, of course. . . . You really _are_ the host?”
”Yes, I really am. So you see!”
”No, but I hear and understand. Never mind. Ask me another night.”
”Yes--that's it. Another night. Thank you so much. By the way, does the living bronze--”
”What? The living what?”