"Madam Steele has ordered two pictures for the holiday. He's coming for Christmas. I hope it won't spoil your day." "Of course it won't. Because I don't want you to marry him doesn't mean that I'm allergic to him. Has that play-writing germ he had picked up before he went to the Grants* ever developed into a serious attack?" "Haven't heard of it since. Perhaps he tried, perhaps he discovered that it isn't the 'cinch' he thought it." "That and portrait paintingl You don't have to tell me they're no cinch. Libby Hull is a problem. I want her to go home for the holiday. She won't. Says that there's no one there for whom she gives a tinker's darn." "Abracadabra! Vanish your problem. Madam Steele met her here. Thinks she's a 'colorful' character. Told me this morning to invite her. She would have her meals with Buff and the maids. Will she do it?" "Never. But it's only fair to extend the invitation. Here she is. Watch for fireworks." Liberty Hull was smiling as she entered with the tray; her black eyes snapped like jet beads reflecting the light.
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