seen you since that night at Sullivan’s reception. Why didn’t you call on me one Sunday? You know I asked you to.”

“Did you ask me?” I demanded, secretly flattered in the extremity of my youthfulness because she had called me supercilious.

“Well, rather. I’m going to Paris — and in this weather!”

“I am, too.”

“Then, let’s go together, eh?”

“Delighted. But why have you chosen such a night?”

“I haven’t chosen it. You see, I open to-morrow at the Casino de Paris for fourteen nights, and I suppose I’ve got to be there. You wouldn’t believe what they’re