"You won't mind my interviewing you, will you ?" "Doing what ?" he asked blankly.
"Interviewing you! That's what I've come for, you know; and we want a little sketch of your house for the paper.

I know you don't like it.

I hear you've been awfully rude to poor little Morrison of the Post; but I'll be very careful what I say, and very quick." He stood looking at her, a dazed and bewildered man.

From the trim little hat, with its white band and jaunty bunch of cornflowers, to the well-shaped patent shoes, she was neatly and daintily dressed.

A journalist! He gazed once more into her face, at the brown eyes watching him now a little anxiously, the mouth with the humorous twitch at the corner of her lips.