"Excellent. That is the better line for women who are young and pretty. We jaded men of the world hate to be serious when we leave business behind. Now, you would scarce credit what a lively youngster I am when I come abroad for a holiday. I always kiss my fingers to France at the first sight of her fair face. She bubbles like her own champagne, whereas London invariably reminds me of beer." "Do I take it that you prefer gas to froth?" "You offer me difficult alternatives, yet I accept them. Though gas is as dreadful a description of champagne as entomological is of a certain type of secretary, I would venture to point out that it expands, effervesces, soars ever to greater heights; but beer, froth and all, tends to become flat, stale, and unprofitable." "I assure you my knowledge of both is limited. I had never even tasted champagne until the other day." "When you lunched with Millicent at the Embankment Hotel?" "Well--yes. She was at school with me, and we met last week by accident. She is making quite a success at the Wellington Theater, is she not?" "So I hear. I am a director of that concern; but I seldom go there." "How odd that sounds to one who saves up her pennies to attend a favorite play!" "Then you must have my address, and when I am in town you need never want a stall at any theater in London. Now, that is no idle promise. I mean it. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to think you were enjoying something through my instrumentality." "How exceedingly kind of you! I shall take you at your word. What girl wouldn't?" "I know quite a number who regard me as an ogre. I am not a lady's man in the general sense of the term, Miss Wynton. I might tell you more about myself if it were not for signs that the next five minutes will bring us to Calais. You are far too independent, I suppose, that I should offer to carry your bag; but will you allow me to reserve a joint table for _dejeuner_? There will be a rush for the first service, which is the best, as a rule, and I have friends at court on this line. Please don't say you are not hungry." "That would be impolite, and horribly untrue," laughed Helen. He took the implied permission, and hurried away. They did not meet again until he came to her carriage in the train. "Is this where you are?" he cried, looking up at her through the open window. "I am in the next block, as they say in America. When you are ready I shall take you to the dining car. Come out on the platform. The corridors are simply impassable. And here are baskets of peaches, and ripe pears, and all manner of pleasant fruits. Yes, try the corridor to the right, and charge resolutely. If you inflict the maximum injury on others, you seldom damage yourself."