"'Sh! If you want me to believe you are not the ass you think you look, be careful what you say. Remember I am _not_ Miss Fowler to you. I am Constance--sometimes Connie. Can you remember that,--Roxbury?" He drew a long breath. "Oh, I say, Connie, I'd much rather be plain Brock to you." "Please don't forget that I am doing this for my sister,--not for myself, by any manner of means," she said stiffly. He flushed painfully, conscious of the rebuke. "Please overlook my faults for the time being," he said. "I'll do better. You see, I've been rather overcome by the sense of my own importance. I'm not used to being the head of an establishment. It has dazed me. A great many things have happened to me since I left the Gare de l'Est last night." He was considerate in not referring to his unhappy mode of travelling. "For instance, I've completely lost my head." He might have said hat, but that would have sounded commonplace and earthy. "One does, you know, when he loses his identity," she said sympathetically. "Edith says you are ripping, and all that sort of thing," she went on hurriedly, in perfect mimicry. "You come very highly recommended as a brother-in-law." "Are you to be with us until the end of the play?" "Yes. The Rodneys are my friends, not Edith's. Katherine Rodney was in the convent with me. We see a great deal of each other. I'm sure you will like her. Everybody falls dreadfully in love with her." "How very amiable of you to permit it," he protested gallantly. "I'm sure I shall enjoy falling in love. Which reminds me that I've never had a sister-in-law. They're very nice, I'm told. It's odd that Medcroft didn't tell me about you. Would you mind advancing a bit of general information about yourself--and, I may say, about my family in general? It may come handy." "I feel as though I had known you for years," she said, frankly returning his gaze. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. "I'm merely Edith's sister. We live in Paris,--that is, father and I. I'm three years younger than Edith. Of course, you know how old your wife is, so we won't dwell upon that. You don't? Then I'd demand it of her. I haven't been in Philadelphia since I was seven--and that's ages ago. I have no mother, and father is off in South America on business. So, you see, little sister has to tag after big sister. Oh!" She interrupted the recital with an abrupt change of manner. "I'm so sorry you've finished your coffee. Now you'll have to go. Roxbury always does." "But I haven't finished," he exclaimed eagerly. "I'm going to have three or four more pots. You have no idea how--"