"My dear Eve," I reminded her, "you forget that I have joined the gang--I mean," I corrected myself hastily, "that I have offered to associate myself with you and your father in any of your enterprises. I am perfectly willing to give up anything in life you may consider too respectable. At the same time I must say there are limits so far as you are concerned." She pouted a little. "I hate being out of things," she said. "No need for you to be, altogether!" I continued. "Now if I could institute a real big affair in the shape of a bucketshop swindle, in which your father and I could play the principal parts and you become merely a subordinate, such as a typist or something--what about that, eh?" "It doesn't sound very amusing for me," she objected. "How much should we make?" "Thousands," I assured her, "if it were properly engineered." "I think," she said reflectively, "that father would be very glad of a few thousands just now. He says the market over here, for such little trifles as we have come across, is very restricted." I groaned under my breath. In imagination I could see Mr. Parker bartering with some shady individual for Lady Enterdean's cameo brooch! I reverted to our previous subject of conversation. "Eve," I went on, "I hate to seem tedious--but the question of our engagement still hangs fire." "You persistent person!" she sighed, "Tell me, if I married you would all those people we met last night be nice to me?" "Of course they would," I assured her. "They are only waiting for a word from you. I think they must have an idea already. I am not in the habit of giving dinner parties with a young lady as guest of honor." She was thoughtful for a few moments, and her eyes lit up with reminiscent humor. "Dear me!" she murmured. "If only they knew! They hadn't any suspicions, I suppose, about those--those little trifles?" "None," I replied. "I put it all on to a waiter." "How clever of you! You really do seem to be a most capable person--and so masterful! I begin to fear that some day you'll have your own way." Her eyes laughed at me. There was something softly provocative in them--a new and kinder light. I bent over her and kissed her. She sat quite still. "Mr. Walmsley!" "It's usual among engaged couples," I pleaded. "Is it!" she remarked coldly. "Doesn't the man, as a rule, wait to be quite sure he is engaged?" "Not in this country," I declared: "I have heard that Americans are rather shy about that sort of thing. Englishmen----" "Oh, bother Englishmen!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "I don't believe a word I've ever heard about them. I suppose now I shall have to marry you!" "I don't see any way out of it," I agreed readily. She held up her finger. The door was quietly opened. Mr. Parker entered.