Graceful, fascinating, independent, and a widow! Coupling these facts with the correspondence which I believed I had detected, I grouped them into a little romance, and laid out my friend's future career as confidently as if it had depended only on myself to marry him out of hand, and make all parties happy. Dalrymple sat musing for a moment, with his chin resting on his hands and his eyes fixed on the desk. Then shaking back his hair as if he would shake back his thoughts with it, he started suddenly to his feet and said, laughingly:-- "Now, young Damon, to Michaud's--to Michaud's, with what speed we may! Farewell to 'Tempe and the vales of Arcady,' and hey for civilization, and a swallow-tailed coat!" I noticed, however, that before we left the room, he put the little note tenderly away in a drawer of his desk, and locked it with a tiny gold key that hung upon his watch-chain. CHAPTER XIII. I MAKE MY DEBUT IN SOCIETY. At ten o'clock on Monday evening, Dalrymple called for me, and by ten o'clock, thanks to the great Michaud and other men of genius, I presented a faultless exterior. My friend walked round me with a candle, and then sat down and examined me critically. "By Jove!" said he, "I don't believe I should have known you! You are a living testimony to the science of tailoring. I shall call on Michaud, to-morrow, and pay my tribute of admiration." "I am very uncomfortable," said I, ruefully. "Uncomfortable! nonsense--Michaud's customers don't know the meaning of the word." "But he has not made me a single pocket!" "And what of that? Do you suppose the great Michaud would spoil the fit of a masterpiece for your convenience?" "What am I to do with my pocket-handkerchief?" "Michaud's customers never need pocket-handkerchiefs." "And then my trousers..." "Unreasonable Juvenile, what of the trousers?" "They are so tight that I dare not sit down in them." "Barbarian! Michaud's customers never sit down in society." "And my boots are so small that I can hardly endure them." "Very becoming to the foot," said Dalyrmple, with exasperating indifference. "And my collar is so stiff that it almost cuts my throat." "Makes you hold your head up," said Dalrymple, "and leaves you no inducement to commit suicide." I could not help laughing, despite my discomfort. "Job himself never had such a comforter!" I exclaimed. "It would be a downright pleasure to quarrel with you." "Put on your hat instead, and let us delay no longer," replied my friend. "My cab is waiting."