“Are you drinking a toast?” Erica asked. “I’ll give you one. To Robin’s
success in California!”
They drank it with a will.
“If you don’t like the ranch,” Erica said, “wait till I am twenty-one and
I’ll buy it from you.”
“Would you like that sort of life?” His tone was eager.
“Of course I should.” She turned to Grant, beginning to say something.
“You’ll have to come out and see it long before you’re twenty-one,” Robin
persisted.
“Yes, that would be nice.” She was sincere but inattentive. “Mr. Grant”
(for some reason she never called him Inspector) “if I get those tickets from
Mr. Mills myself will you come with me to the Circus at Christmas?”
She was very faintly pink, as if she had asked a forward thing. A
phenomenon in Erica, who was forward by nature and never knew it.
“Of course I will,” Grant said, “with the greatest pleasure.”
“All right,” she said. “That’s a promise.” She lifted her glass. “To
Olympia, at Christmas!”
“To Olympia at Christmas!” Grant said.