"Hello? Who is it?... Yes, this is Miss Baxter.... Who?... Huntington?... Oh, yes, Chesterton ... of course I remember.... How do you do?... I'm just up.... Yes, splendid dance!... What?... To-night?... No-o.... Who else is in the party?... Just us two?... No, I guess not!... Aren't you a little sudden, Mr. Chesterton?... Not with you alone.... Oh, yes; but I'm very formal! That's where you make your mistake.... Certainly, I'd go with a good many men, but not with you.... Not till I really know you.... Now, I'm going to tell you something, Mr. Chesterton. I'm not like other girls, I play fair. I expect men to make mistakes--one mistake. I always forgive once, and I always give one warning--just one! You understand? All right! I won't say any more!... No, I'm not offended.... I'm quite used to such mistakes: they sort of follow dances, don't they?... Well, that's nice; I'm glad you understand me.... Some men don't, you know!... That's very flattering!... If what?... If it's made a party of four?... That would be different, yes.... Try--telephone me about six and I'll let you know.... No, I couldn't say definitely now; I'll have to try and get out of another party.... No, I haven't seen that play yet.... Phone at six.... Oh, dear me! How easily you repeat that!... Why, yes, I liked you; I thought you danced the Hesitation perfectly dandy...." (A laugh.) "Well, that's enough.... I can't promise.... Phone, anyhow.... Good-by.... Yes, oh, yes.... Good-by.... Not offended! Oh, no!... Good-by!" She came back, and extending her fingers above her head, said: "So high!" She brought her hands close together: "So thin! A monocle--badly tamed--a ladylike mustache--all I remember! Oh, yes, he said he had two automobiles--most important!" She shrugged her shoulders and added maliciously: "We'll put him down, anyhow--last call for dinner!... So you don't like my costume?" "That isn't it!" said Winona. She turned, hesitating: "Only, for an orgy of old Sassoon's." "Orgy," in the lexicon of the Salamanders, is a banquet in the superlative of lavishness; on the other hand, a dinner or a luncheon that has the slightest taint of economy is derogatorily known as a "tea-party." "It's my style--it's me!" said Doré, with a confident bob of her head. "Those girls will come all Gussied up for Sassoon," persisted Winona. "Staggering, under the war-paint!" "Let me alone," said Dodo; "I know what I'm doing!" She knew she had made no blunder. The costume exhaled a perfume of freshness and artless charm, from the daintiness with which the throat was revealed, from the slight youthful bust delicately defined under the informality of the blouse, to the long descending clinging of the coat, which followed, half-way to the knee, lines of young and slender grace which can not be counterfeited. "It's individual--it's me," she repeated, running her little hands caressingly down the slim undulation of the waist, caught in by the trim green belt.