Imperial City [antikvár]

D aisy dunbar tapped lightly on the bathroom door. "Can you come to the phone, Mr. Coleman?" she asked in her soft Southern voice. ''It's Miss Gibboney." "Miss Gibboney?" exclaimed Gaillard Coleman in surprise. "Why, yes. Tell her I'll be right there." He hastily wiped the remnants of lather from his face and hurried to the telephone. "Hello, Elinor!" he said cordially. "Hello, Gay," said Elinor Gibboney. "You haven't come dripping from the tub, I hope." "No, just shaving. This is a nice surprise. When did you get in?" "Well, I'm a little surprised, myself," said Elinor. "I got in this morning. And to a deserted city, apparently. Has the Black Death hit New York at last?" Gay laughed. "Not yet. It's a legal holiday. Everybody's in the country picking flowers." "Oh, is that what's wrong? Why, it's positively archaeological—like Pompeii or Les Baux or something." "How are you, Elinor? And how was the ranch?" "Oh, I'm fine and dandy—full of vitamins and what have you. I've ridden every broncho west of the Rockies, and rolled my lovely gray eyes at every cowhand. Wasn't it you to whom I wrote a letter?" "I seem to remember getting one in Vienna. I just got back the other day, myself. Did you get my wire?" "Yes, I did," said Elinor. "Was Europe fun? Did you meet many fascinating ladies?" "Well, I saw Mistinguett lunching in the Bois one day." "Oh, how exciting! I can't wait to hear all about it." "Fine! When am I going to see you?" "Well, I'm just here for the day. I'm motoring up to New Hamp* shire in the morning." "Oh, really!" exclaimed Gay.