about eight in Jessie’s crowd. Not counting guides. What do you say? Like to go?”

For a dazed moment Florian stared at him. “Why, yessir. Yes, sir, I’d — I’d like to go — very much.” And he coughed to hide his joy and terror.

And two weeks later he went.

The thing swept the store like a flame. In an hour everyone knew it from the shipping-room to the roof-restaurant. Myra saw him the day he left. She was game, that girl.

“I hope you’re going to have a beautiful time, Mr. Sykes.”

“Thanks, Myra.” He could afford to be lenient with her, poor little girl.

She ventured a final wretched word or two.