Fay said, somewhat wistfully, “I am afraid I talked you to death, Anita. I wanted someone to listen while I built air castles. I—I’ll read a book. I’ll be waiting up when you get back.”

“Don’t,” Anita said. “It’ll be late.”

Fay said wistfully, “You’re always so mysterious about things, Anita. I really know very little about your friends. Don’t you ever want to get married and have a home of your own?”

“Not me. I’m too fond of having my own way, and I like life as it is,” Anita said, and slipped out through the door.

She walked down the corridor to the elevator, pressed the button, and when the cage came up to the sixth floor, stepped in, pressed the button for the lobby, waited until the elevator was halfway down, then pressed the Stop button, then the button for the seventh floor.

The elevator rattled slowly upward and came to a stop.

Anita calmly opened her purse, took out a key, walked down the long corridor, glanced swiftly back toward the elevator, then fitted the key to Apartment 702, and opened the door.

Carver L. Clements looked up from his newspaper and removed the cigar from his mouth. He regarded Anita Bonsal with eyes that showed his approval, but he kept his voice detached as he said, “It took you long enough to get here.”

“I had to throw a little wool in the eyes of my roommate, and listen to her prattle of happiness. She’s marrying Dane Grover.”

Carver Clements put down the newspaper. “The hell she is!”

“It seems he went overboard in a burst of romance, and his attentions became serious and honorable,” Anita said bitterly. “Fay has written her aunt, Louise Marlow, and as soon as she gets here they’ll be married.”

Carver Clements looked at the tall brunette. He said, “I had it figured out that you were in love with Dane Grover, yourself.”

“So that’s been the trouble with you lately!”

“Weren’t you?”

“Heavens, no!”

“You know, my love,” Clements went on, “I’d hate to lose you now.”

Anger flared in her eyes. “Don’t think you own me!”

“Let’s call it a lease,” he said.

“It’s a tenancy-at-will,” she flared. “And kindly get up when I come into the room. After all, you might show some manners.”

Clements arose from the chair. He was a spidery man with long arms and legs, a thick, short body, a head almost bald, but he spent a small fortune on clothes that were skillfully cut to conceal the chunkiness of his body. He smiled, and said, “My little spitfire! But I like you for it. Remember, Anita, I’m playing for keeps. As soon as I can get my divorce straightened out.”

“You and your divorce!” she interrupted. “You’ve been pulling that line—”