There was no use trying to convert Garry.
"And now tell me about the supper," asked Jack.
"Oh, that was all right. We whooped it up till they closed the bar
and then went home with the milk. Had an awful head on me next
morning; nearly fell off the scaffold, I was so sleepy. How's Miss
Corinne? I'm going to stop in on my way uptown this afternoon and
apologize to her. I have her note, but I haven't had a minute to
let her know why I didn't come. I'll show her the ring; then
she'll know why. Saw it, didn't you?"
Jack hadn't seen it. He had been too excited to look. Now he
examined it. With the flash of the gems Biffy sat up straight, and
the others craned their heads. Garry slipped it off his finger for
the hundredth time for similar inspections, and Jack utilized the
pause in the conversation to say that Corinne had received the
note and that in reply she had vented most of her disappointment
on himself, a disclosure which sent a cloud across Garry's face.
The cocktail hour had now arrived--one hour before dinner, an hour
which was fixed by that distinguished compounder of herbs and
spirits, Mr.
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