So the scenes were shifted, and they all sat and chatted till Dennis left. Then the necessary papers were brought in and looked over at Peter’s study-table, and Miss D’Alloi took another of his pens. Peter hoped she’d stop and think a little, again, but she didn’t. Just as she had begun an L she hesitated, however. “Why,” she said, “this paper calls me ‘Leonore D’Alloi, spinster!’ I’m not going to sign that.” “That is merely the legal term,” Peter explained. Leonore pouted for some time over it, but finally signed. “I shan’t be a spinster, anyway, even if the paper does say so,” she said. Peter agreed with her. “See what a great blot I’ve made on your clean blotter,” said Leonore, who had rested the pen-point there. “I’m very sorry.” Then she wrote on the blotter, “Leonore D’Alloi. Her very untidy mark.” “That was what Madame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises.” Then they said “Good-bye.” “I like down-town New York better and better,” said Leonore. So did Peter. CHAPTER XLIII. A BIRTHDAY EVENING. Peter went into Ray’s office on Monday. “I want your advice,” he said. “I’m going to a birthday dinner to-morrow. A girl for whom I’m trustee. Now, how handsome a present may I send her?” “H’m. How well do you know her?” “We are good friends.” “Just about what you please, I should say, if you know her well, and make money out of her?” “That is, jewelry?” “Ye—es.” “Thanks.” Peter turned. “Who is she, Peter? I thought you never did anything so small as that. Nothing, or four figures, has always seemed your rule?” “This had extenuating circumstances,” smiled Peter. So when Peter shook hands, the next evening, with the very swagger young lady who stood beside her mother, receiving, he was told: “It’s perfectly lovely! Look.” And the little wrist was held up to him. “And so were the flowers. I couldn’t carry a tenth of them, so I decided to only take papa’s. But I put yours up in my room, and shall keep them there.” Then Peter had to give place to another, just as he had decided that he would have one of the flowers from the bunch she was carrying, or—he left the awful consequences of failure blank. Peter stood for a moment unconscious of the other people, looking at the pretty rounded figure in the dainty evening dress of French open-work embroidery. “I didn’t think she could be lovelier than she was in her street and riding dresses but she is made for evening dress,” was his thought. He knew this observation wasn’t right, however, so he glanced round the room, and then walked up to a couple. “There, I told Mr. Beekman that I was trying to magnetize you, and though your back was turned, you came to me at once.” “Er—really, quite wonderful, you know,” said Mr. Beekman. “I positively sharn’t dare to be left alone with you, Miss De Voe.”