"Perhaps I will," she chuckled. "Say, don't urge me too hard, Mr. Lightnut; you might embarrass me." I did not want to embarrass her. "I thought perhaps a lemon soda would refresh you," I explained. "Or, if you will allow me, I will have Jenkins make you one of his famous seltzer lemonades. Perhaps, though, you would prefer just a plain--" I halted in confusion, for she was laughing at me. "A plain cup of tea," she gurgled, "or a _creme de menthe_!" And then her laughter burst deliciously. "Say, do you know, honestly, I'm only just getting on to that dry humor of yours. You've had me fooled. You do it with such a serious face, you know. Say, it's _great_!" I tried to smile, but I knew it was a devilish sickly go--the more so, because just at that moment her slender fingers discarded the remnant of her last cigarette and reached for a cigar. Another instant, and she had deftly clipped and lighted it. I decided I wouldn't ring for Jenkins. I felt ashamed as I looked in the cellarette, and wondered what the deuce I should offer her. Couldn't think of anything I had ever heard of boarding-school girls going in for except ice-cream soda; and, dash it, I didn't have any ice-cream soda. Nearest thing would be a little seltzer and ginger ale. That would do. "Oh, I say, I'm going to make you a highball," I said, trying to assume a frisky, jocular air. Her voice lifted in alarm. "Nay, nay, Clarence--not for me!" she urged hastily. "But it's only--" "No fizzy adulterations in mine--not on your life." She followed me across the room. "Just give me the straight, pure goods--anything, just so it's whisky." And before I could say a word--if, indeed, I could have said a word--she had selected a decanter of Scotch, and with cigar tilted upward in her tender mouth, was absorbingly pouring a shining stream of the amber fluid. To see the slow curving of that delicately molded wrist, the challenging flash of the saucy eyes of blue, by Jove, it made me just forget all about what she was doing till the fluid ran over the brim. And then, before I could intercept her, she had lightly gestured her glass to mine, and in a flash the stuff was gone. Gone! A full whisky glass; and I recalled with a shiver of horror that it was very high proof liquor--something I seldom touched myself, but kept on hand for certain of my friends. "I say, you know!" I gasped in consternation. "I'm awfully afraid that will--er--will--" I gulped wordlessly. The coral lips curved scornfully. "Get _me_ jingled?" She looked as she might have if I had insulted her. "Maybe so in those girlie-girlie days you were trying to josh me about, but not since these two years I've been at college." She shook her lovely, bright head, and following a long enjoyable pull at the cigar, projected five perfect rings at a frescoed cherub in the ceiling. The exquisite eyes softened dreamily as under the spell of some pleasing thought--some tender reminiscence.