"It's merely the check, if you please," she interrupted coldly. "My desk is closed, and the Room will refuse further patrons for the next hour, as the executive committee of the Shelley Society meets here at four o'clock and the Asolando is denied to outsiders." "This, then, is my dismissal? The lady who joined me here for a time left a dollar, which, you will see, is somewhat in excess of her check. My own charge of fifty cents is so moderate that I cannot do less than leave a dollar also." "Thank you," she replied, unshaken by my generosity. "The tips at the Asolando all go to the Sweetness and Light Club, which is just now engaged in circulating Matthew Arnold's poems in leaflet form in the jobbing district." "I sympathize with that propaganda," I replied, gathering up my hat and stick, "and am delighted to contribute to its support. And now I dare say you would be glad to be rid of me. The Asolando has tolerated me longer than my slight purchases justified." I bowed and had turned away, when she arrested me with the line,-- "My good blade carves the casques of men." I turned toward her. Several of the waitresses were now engaged in rearranging the tables, but they seemed not to heed us. "Permit me to inquire," she asked, "whether the lady who joined you here expressed any interest in the life beautiful as it is exemplified in the Asolando?" "I am constrained to say that she did not. She spoke of the Asolando in the most contumelious terms." The golden head bowed slightly, and a smile hovered about her lips; but her amusement at my answer was more eloquently stated in her eyes. "I must explain that my sole excuse for addressing you is that we are required to learn, where possible, just why strangers seek the Asolando." "In the case of the lady to whom you refer, it was a matter of this being the seventh shop from the corner; and my own appearance was due to the idlest curiosity, inspired by enthusiastic descriptions of the Asolando's atmosphere and rumors of the cheapness of its food." "The reasons are quite ample," was her only comment, and her manner did not encourage further conversation. "May I ask," I persisted, "whether the Asolando's staff is permanent, and whether, if I return another day." "I take it that you do not mean to be impertinent, so I will answer that my service here is limited to Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. On the other days Pippa is in the cash-booth. My name at the Asolando is Francesca." "I had guessed it might be Lalage or Chloris," I ventured. She shook her head gravely. "Kindly write your name in the visitors' book at the door as you pass out." There was no ignoring this hint. I thought she smiled as I left her. III I FALL INTO A BRIAR PATCH