He sank his voice to a winning whisper. 'You look good to muh,' he said, gallantly. 'The idea!' said Maud, tossing her head. 'On the level,' Mr Shute assured her. Maud laid down her orange-sticks. 'Don't be silly,' she said. 'There--I've finished.' 'I've not,' said Mr Shute. 'Not by a mile. Say!' 'Well?' 'What do you do with your evenings?' 'I go home.' 'Sure. But when you don't? It's a poor heart that never rejoices. Don't you ever whoop it up?' 'Whoop it up?' 'The mad whirl,' explained Mr Shute. 'Ice-cream soda and buck-wheat cakes, and a happy evening at lovely Luna Park.' 'I don't know where Luna Park is.' 'What did they teach you at school? It's out in that direction,' said Mr Shute, pointing over his shoulder. 'You go straight on about three thousand miles till you hit little old New York; then you turn to the right. Say, don't you ever get a little treat? Why not come along to the White City some old evening? This evening?' 'Mr Welsh is taking me to the White City tonight.' 'And who is Mr Welsh?' 'The gentleman who has just gone out.' 'Is that so? Well, he doesn't look a live one, but maybe it's just because he's had bad news today. You never can tell.' He rose. 'Farewell, Evelina, fairest of your sex. We shall meet again; so keep a stout heart.' And, taking up his cane, straw hat, and yellow gloves, Mr Shute departed, leaving Maud to her thoughts. She was disappointed. She had expected better results. Mr Shute had lowered with ease the record for gay badinage, hitherto held by the red-faced customer; yet to all appearances there had been no change in Arthur's manner. But perhaps he had scowled (or bitten his lip), and she had not noticed it. Apparently he had struck Mr Shute, an unbiased spectator, as gloomy. Perhaps at some moment when her eyes had been on her work--She hoped for the best. Whatever his feelings may have been during the afternoon, Arthur was undeniably cheerful that evening. He was in excellent spirits. His light-hearted abandon on the Wiggle-Woggle had been noted and commented upon by several lookers-on. Confronted with the Hairy Ainus, he had touched a high level of facetiousness. And now, as he sat with her listening to the band, he was crooning joyously to himself in accompaniment to the music, without, it would appear, a care in the world.