"Horrid. Everybody ate too much, and Valerie spooned with a new man--I don't remember his name. She went out in a canoe with him and they sang 'She kissed him on the gangplank when the boat moved out.'" Neville, silent, turned to the picture once more. In a low rapid voice he indicated to Ogilvy where matters might be differently treated, stepped back a few paces, nodded decisively, and turned again to Rita: "I've been waiting for Miss West," he said. "Have you any reason to think that she might not keep her appointment this morning?" "She had a headache when we got home," said Rita. "She stayed with me last night. I left her asleep. Why don't you ring her up. You know my number." "All right," said Neville, shortly, and went out. When he first tried to ring her up the wire was busy. It was a party wire, yet a curious uneasiness set him pacing the studio, smoking, brows knitted, until he decided it was time to try again. This time he recognised her distant voice: "Hello--hello! _Is_ that you, Mr. Neville?" "Valerie!" "Oh, it _is_ you, Kelly? I hoped you would call me up. I _knew_ it must be _you_!" "Yes, it is. What the deuce is the matter? Are you ill?" "Oh, dear, no.'" "_What,_ then?" [Illustration: "When he first tried to ring her up the wire was busy."] "I was _so_ sleepy, Kelly. Please forgive me. We had such a late party--and it was daylight before I went to bed. Please forgive me; won't you?" "When I called you a few minutes ago your wire was busy. Were you conversing?" "Yes. I was talking to José Querida." "H'm!" "José was with us last evening.... I went canoeing with him. He just called me up to ask how I felt." "Hunh!" "What?" "Nothing." "Are you annoyed, Louis?" "No!" "Oh, I thought it sounded as though you were irritated. I am so ashamed at having overslept. Who told you I was here? Oh, Rita, I suppose. Poor child, she was more faithful than I. The alarm clock woke her and she was plucky enough to get up--and I only yawned and thought of you, and I was _so_ sleepy! Are you sure you do forgive me?" "Of course." "You don't say it very kindly." "I mean it cordially," he snapped. He could hear her sigh: "I suppose you do." Then she added: "I am dressing, Kelly. I don't wish for any breakfast, and I'll come to the studio as soon as I can--" "Take your breakfast first!" "No, I really don't care for--" "All right. Come ahead." "I will. Good-bye, Kelly, dear." He rang off, picked up the telephone again, called the great Hotel Regina, and ordered breakfast sent to his studio immediately. When Valerie arrived she found silver, crystal, and snowy linen awaiting her with chilled grapefruit, African melon, fragrant coffee, toast, and pigeon's eggs poached on Astrakan caviar. "Oh, Louis!" she exclaimed, enraptured; "I don't deserve this--but it is perfectly dear of you--and I _am_ hungry!... Good-morning," she added, shyly extending a fresh cool hand; "I am really none the worse for wear you see."