Gita, who had looked like a boy once more in her silk union suit, slipped a negligée of ivory-white silk and lace over her head and shook it down. “You made me get these things,” she grumbled. “I always feel rather a fool in them. What on earth are you staying in town all summer for? You’ll pass out with the heat.” “You can always be comfortable in New York in summer if you stay in the house all day and live in north rooms. It just occurred to me I’d like a change.” “It will be a change, all right.” Gita stretched herself on the despised day-bed and stuffed a cushion under her head. “Won’t you be bored to death?” “Not while there’s a man in the offing.” “Park Leonard?” “No. Geoffrey Pelham.” Gita, prepared, did not change countenance. “Interesting man, rather, but it seemed to me last night that Mr. Leonard exactly fitted into that old program of yours.” “Forget what it was. Might have filled the bill once but Geoffrey Pelham is unique in my experience, and that suits me better.” The girls’ eyes did not clash but met calmly. “Well, you always get what you want, Polly dear,” said Gita, and felt an inclination to strangle her. Polly blew a ring. “Mother said you flirted desperately with Geoffrey last night.” “I!” Gita’s spine rose as if propelled by a spring. “I never flirted in my life and you know it.” “I told her she was crazy, but she will have it that you have lost your heart at last.” Gita gasped. “Lost my heart? I feel as if I were turning pea-green. It’s enough to make a dog sick.” “So it is. You may be sure she didn’t convince me. If you ever did anything so commonplace we’d all be horribly disappointed. Now, you’re the one and only Gita. . . . But—do you know?—I think you’ve rather grown to like admiration, and are not above encouraging it.” Gita shrugged and settled back to her pillow. “I’m vain enough. I even put cold cream on my face at night before I wash it. But I don’t flirt and I don’t encourage them. Just let them yap to their hearts’ content.” “But do tell me that you think Geoffrey interesting,” cried Polly, still angling. “I’d be frightfully disappointed if you didn’t.” “Yes—I’d call him interesting. He doesn’t say much, but he has a quality—magnetism, I suppose. And then he’s rather unsusceptible and that’s always intriguing. Glad he’s fallen in love with you if you want him.” Her conscience suddenly pricked. “By the way, he spoke of you with the greatest enthusiasm last night.” “Did he?” Polly seldom blushed but she did now and her eyes sparkled. “What did he say?” “Oh, a lot of things. Different. More admirable than all other girls rolled into one. Almost warmed up.” Gita had a very vague remembrance of what Geoffrey had said about Polly. “Well, he ought to know something about me. We’ve seen enough of each other.” “Are you really in love with him?” Gita infused her tones with warm interest.