He pretended to search through his trunk and valise in great concern until, Snorky's curiosity having been properly awakened, he suddenly struck his forehead. "Of course. How silly of me!" And diving into his inner pocket he brought forth a last tribute, encased in neat pink morocco, which he arranged in the unmistakable position of honor. Snorky approached on tenterhooks. The next moment he burst out: "Mimi!" "What, you know her!" said Skippy, surprised in turn. "Rather cute little thing." "Look!" On Snorky's bureau in the same place of honor was an identical photograph, a little Japanese brunette, with a descending puff and an ascending nose. They stood staring at each other, and the temperature of the room seemed to recede towards the freezing point. "When did you meet her? How long have you known her, and how the deuce did you get her photo?" said Snorky, with blazing eyes. Skippy was in a quandary. A false step might tumble about him the glorious fabric of his new reputation. He went to his bureau and thoughtfully considered the pink morocco case stolen from his sister's collection. Revenge had been sweet, yet the impulse was still on him. He decided that a quick conquest would be the more galling to a rival's pride. "Oh, we waltzed about a bit, but I gave her an awful rush." Snorky went and sat down in a corner, elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. Seeing thus the wreck he had caused, Skippy began to be troubled by his conscience. Suppose it really was a serious affair. Wouldn't it be nobler to surrender the fictitious conquest to his beloved friend, to adopt a sacrificial attitude and allow Snorky to go in and win her? "I say, old boy, I'm awfully sorry; do you really care?" "For Mimi Lafontaine? For a girl that can't tell a man from a cabbage? Ha, ha!" All kindly feelings vanished. "What's the good of calling yourself names?" said Skippy crushingly. He picked up the photograph and smiled at it. "Mimi is a flirt, but she has her good points." "Look here!" said Snorky, rising in sudden fury. "There's one question has got to be answered right now." "And pray what is that?" said Skippy, resting one elbow on the top of the bed and crossing his legs to show his perfect calm. Snorky planted himself before the bureau and extended his hand in a furious gesture towards the lace bed cap that now adorned the top. "Does or does not _that_ belong to Miss Lafontaine?" "Any one who would lower himself to ask such a question," said Skippy, still in a stage attitude, "does not deserve my sympathy. I would have given her up. Now I shall keep her." "Oh, you think she cares for you, you chump?" "I do not discuss women."