And I tell you, frankly, I don't think it's square to her and I won't do it.

Women are nuisances in studios, anyway." "What a charming way your brother has of explaining things," laughed Stephanie, passing her arm through Lily's: "Shall we reveal to him that he was seen with his Valerie at the St.Regis a week ago ?" "Why not ?" he said, coolly, but inwardly exasperated.

"She's as ornamental as anybody who dines there." "I don't do _that_ with _my_ stenographers!" called out Cameron gleefully, cleaning up three odd in spades.

"Oh, don't talk to me, Louis! You're a gay bunch all right!--you're qualified, every one of you, artists and models, to join the merry, merry!" Stephanie dropped Lily's arm with a light laugh, swung her tennis bat, tossed a ball into the sunshine, and knocked it over toward the tennis court.
"I'll take you on if you like, Louis!" she called back over her shoulder, then continued her swift, graceful pace, white serge skirts swinging above her ankles, bright hair wind-blown--a lithe, full, wholesome figure, very comforting to look at.
"Come upstairs; I'll show you where Gordon's shoes are," said his sister.
Gordon's white shoes fitted him, also his white trousers.

When he was dressed he came out of the room and joined his sister, who was seated on the stairs, balancing his racquet across her knees.
"Louis," she said, "how about the good taste of taking that model of yours to the St.Regis ?" "It was perfectly good taste," he said, carelessly.
"Stephanie took it like an angel," mused his sister.
"Why shouldn't she?
If there was anything queer about it, you don't suppose I'd select the St.Regis, do you ?" "Nobody supposed there was anything queer." "Well, then," he demanded, impatiently, "what's the row ?" "There is no row.