I laughed aloud and reached for the bottle to pour us each another drink. As I set the bottle down, I caught the bartender’s eye and made a gesture to indicate I wanted my bill. As we both lifted our glasses, I said, “It might be fun to go some place where we could discuss Johnny Danger without insulting his creator.”

“I’m sure it would be fun,” she agreed simply. “That is… my God! I’m not monopolizing you, am I? I know there are hundreds of people here who must want to talk with you. When I saw your name on the guest list this evening, I was just dying to come to your table and introduce myself. But there were so many important people there…” Her voice trailed off and she raised her glass to drink half the cognac. “Wasn’t that Dorothy Cecil you were sitting beside at dinner?”

I nodded. “On my right.”

“She’s… very attractive. And don’t you love her books?”

“They’re all right.” I’m afraid I said it gruffly. The crowd in the barroom had thinned down considerably, not more than twenty-five or thirty people remaining as the hour approached midnight. Some of them I knew casually, though most were strangers. “Do you have a coat checked?”

“Just a light jacket.” She opened a black suede purse and fumbled in it, brought out a numbered check which she handed to me when I held out my hand for it.

We both drained our glasses and I glanced at the bar check, put some bills on it and turned away. She slid her arm into mine as we crossed to the checkroom. Walking beside me, the top of her head was just below the level of my eyes. Her arm squeezed mine with pleasant possessiveness.

I retrieved my hat and her jacket which proved to be a black satin cape lined with scarlet satin. I slid it over her shoulders and as we went out to the street I asked casually, “Where would you like to go? I’m from Miami, you know.”