"That's my cousin Sullivan," I said to myself. "I wonder if he wants to be friends." Our eyes coquetted. I put one foot into the roadway, withdrew it, restored it to the roadway, and then crossed the street. It was indeed the celebrated Sullivan Smith, composer of those so successful musical comedies, "The Japanese Cat," "The Arabian Girl," and "My Queen." And he condescended to recognize me! His gestures indicated, in fact, a warm desire to be cousinly. I reached him. The moment was historic. While the groom held the wheeler's head, and the twin menials assisted with dignified inactivity, we shook hands. "How long is it?" he said. "Fifteen years--about," I answered, feeling deliciously old. "Remember I punched your head?" "Rather!" (Somehow I was proud that he had punched my head.) "No credit to me," he added magnanimously, "seeing I was years older than you and a foot or so taller. By the way, Carl, how old did you say you were?" He regarded me as a sixth-form boy might regard a fourth-form boy. "I didn't say I was any age," I replied. "But I'm twenty-three." "Well, then, you're quite old enough to have a drink. Come into the club and partake of a gin-and-angostura, old man. I'll clear all this away." He pointed to the equipage, the horses, and the groom, and with an apparently magic word whispered into the groom's ear he did in fact clear them away. They rattled and jingled off in the direction of Leicester Square, while Sullivan muttered observations on the groom's driving. "Don't imagine I make a practice of tooling tandems down to my club," said Sullivan. "I don't. I brought the thing along to-day because I've sold it complete to Lottie Cass. You know her, of course?" "I don't." "Well, anyhow," he went on after this check, "I've sold her the entire bag of tricks. What do you think I'm going to buy?" "What?" "A motor-car, old man!" In those days the person who bought a motor-car was deemed a fearless adventurer of romantic tendencies. And Sullivan so deemed himself. The very word "motor-car" then had a strange and thrilling romantic sound with it. "The deuce you are!" I exclaimed.