She briefly grabbed her lower lip with her upper teeth. "Or is
that--indelicate?"
"No. I'm pleased. And not fooled for a minute. You see--I know Hattie."
"After all," said the girl, "it's her profession. She said we were
having coffee."
Viola came again with a tray. Gwen poured. "There are half a dozen of
us around. Would you like to meet them?"
"One's enough."
Her eyes flickered and she smiled. "Thanks." She handed me the cup,
served the sugar with tongs, poured cream, and fixed her own. "Warm
night."
We talked about that.
By and by she nodded toward the radio-phonograph. "Hattie said you like
to rumba. So do I."