The smile had returned to her lips.
"Won't you, Miss West ?" "Isn't it like you to ask me when you heard Rita's invitation?
You're a fraud, Mr.Annan." "Are you going to sit in that boarding-house parlour and examine Rita's new bonnet all this glorious evening ?" She laughed: "Is there any man on earth who can prophesy what any woman on earth is likely to do?
If _you_ can, please begin." Ogilvy, hands clasped behind him, balancing alternately on heels and toes, stood regarding Neville's work.

Annan looked up, too, watching Neville where he stood on the scaffolding, busy as always, with the only recreation he cared anything for--work.
"I wish to Heaven I were infected with the bacillus of industry," broke out Ogilvy.

"I never come into this place but I see Kelly busily doing something." "You're an inhuman sort of brute, Kelly!" added Annan.

"What do you work that way for--money?
If I had my way I'd spend three quarters of my time shooting and fishing and one quarter painting--and I'm as devotedly stuck on art as any healthy man ought to be." "Art's a bum mistress if she makes you hustle like that!" commented Ogilvy.

"Shake her, Kelly.