"I never thought that I'd be propositioned by a typewriter jockey," said Channing, "but I'll do it. What time is it? Do we do it openly, or must we sneak over to the apartment and snaffle a snort on the sly?"
"We snaffle. That is, if you trust me in your apartment."
"I'm scared to death," Channing informed her. "But if I should fail to defend my honor, we must remember that it is no true failure if I try and fail!"
"That sounds like a nice alibi," said Arden with a smile. "Or a come-on. I don't know which. Or, Mr. Channing, am I being told that my advances might not be welcome?"
"We shall see," Channing said. "We'll have to make a careful study of the matter. I cannot make any statements without first making a thorough investigation under all sorts of conditions. Here we are. You will precede me through the door, please."
"Why?" asked Arden.
"So that you cannot back out at the last possible moment. Once I get you inside, I'll think about keeping you there!"
"As long as you have some illegal fluid, I'll stay." She tried to leer at Don but failed because she had had all too little experience in leering. "Bring it on!"
"Here's to the good old days," toasted Don as the drinks were raised.
"Nope. Here's to the future," proposed Arden. "Those good old days—all they were was old. If you were back in them, you'd still have to have the pleasure of meeting Burbank."