Her intercourse with the Honourable John Ruffin had taught her that a comprehension of the matter under discussion was by no means a necessary qualification of the excellent listener; and Hilary Vance grew entirely satisfied with his confidante.
The affair was pursuing the usual course of his affairs of the heart: one day he was well up in the seventh heaven, talking joyfully of an early proposal and an immediate marriage; another he was well down in the seventh hell.

Pollyooly was always ready with the kind of sympathy, chiefly facial, the changing occasion demanded.
Then one day her host had gone out to lunch with an editor and she was taking hers with the Lump, when there came a rather hurried knocking at the front door.

She opened it, and to her surprise found Flossie standing without.

She was at once stricken with admiration of Flossie's hat, which was very large and apparently loaded with the contents of several beds of flowers.

But Flossie herself looked to be in a state of considerable perturbation.
"Is Mr.Vance in ?" she said somewhat breathlessly.
She seemed to have been hurrying, and the hat was a little on one side.
Pollyooly eyed her with some disfavour, and said coldly: "No, he isn't." "Will he be in soon ?" said Flossie anxiously.
"I don't know," said Pollyooly yet more coldly.
Flossie gazed up and down the street with a helpless air; then she said: "Then I'd better come In and write a note for him and leave it." And she walked down the passage and into the studio.
Still wearing an air of disapproval, Pollyooly found paper and pencil for her; and she sat down and began to write.