“You bet not,” the lady replied.

“Rosetta Rosa’s coming, and she won’t go quite everywhere — not quite! By the way, it’s about time she did come.” He looked at his watch.

“Ah, Mr. Foster,” the divette said, “you must tell me all about that business. I’m told you were there, and that there was a terrible scene.”

“What business?” I inquired.

“At the Opera the other night, when Alresca broke his thigh. Didn’t you go behind and save his life?”

“I didn’t precisely save his life, but I attended to him.”

“They say he is secretly married to Rosa. Is that so?”