phone. Mr. Lamb? "Speedy" Lamb? Well—she would see if Grace was home.
"Hello, Mr. Lamb," came the melting accents of the college widow over the wire. "You're quite a stranger. It's a treat to hear your voice again."
"I'm host at the Frolic, you know, and—" Harold began hesitantly. Now that he actually had Grace on the 'phone, he wanted to slam up the receiver and run out of the store.
Miss Beach interrupted him. "I heard the good news—and it's simply wonderful. It must be marvelous to be so rich and generous. And it's going to make you so popular. I don't suppose you'll even look at poor little me from now on."
"What I called you up for," Harold stammered, "was to ask you to be my partner at the Frolic." His voice trailed off, "I think—it would be—nice."
Deep silence. Miss Beach was considering this unexpected proposition. She made her decision.
She cooed in a voice that would have melted butter. "That would be too wonderful. I'd love to, Mr. Lamb—'Speedy,' if I may be so bold as to call you that. I'm tickled pink. Mr. Trask—Leonard Trask—is escorting my cousin Delphine. We'll make just a jolly little party. "Thank you so much."
