"That is terribly nice of you!" "It is, overwhelmingly. But really I don't know whether I am nice or merely weak-minded. Because I've lingered here gossiping so long with you that I've simply got to fly like a mad creature about my dressing. Good-bye----" "Shall I come up immediately?" "Of course not! I expect to be dressing for hours and hours--figuratively speaking.... Perhaps you might start in ten minutes if you are coming in a taxi." "You are an angel----" "That is not telephone vernacular.... And perhaps you had better be prompt, because Mrs. Lannis is coming for me--that is, if you have anything to--to say--that----" She flushed up, annoyed at her own stupidity, then felt grateful to him as he answered lightly: "Of course; she might misunderstand our informality. Shall I see you in half an hour?" "If I can manage it," she said. She managed it, somehow. At first, really indifferent, and not very much amused, the talk with him had gradually aroused in her the same interest and pleasurable curiosity that she had experienced in exchanging badinage with him the night before. Now she really wanted to see him, and she took enough trouble about it to set her deft maid flying about her offices. First a fragrant precursor of his advent arrived in the shape of a great bunch of winter violets; and her maid fastened them to her black fox muff. Then the distant door-bell sounded; and in an extraordinarily short space of time, wearing her pretty fur hat, her boa, and carrying a muff that matched both, with his violets pinned to it, she entered the dim drawing-room, halting just beyond the threshold. "Are you not ashamed," she said, severely, "to come battering at my door at this hour of the day?" "Abjectly." They exchanged a brief handshake; she seated herself on the arm of a sofa; he stood before the unlighted fireplace, looking at her with a half smiling half curious air which made her laugh outright. "Bien! C'est moi, monsieur," she said. "Me voici! C'est moi-même!" "I believe you _are_ real after all," he admitted. "Do I seem different?" "Yes--and no." "How am I different?" "Well, somehow, last night, I got the notion that you were younger, thinner--and not very real----" "Are you presuming to criticise my appearance last night?" she asked with mock indignation. "Because if you are, I proudly refer you to the enlightened metropolitan morning press." "I read all about you," he said, smiling. "I am glad you did. You will doubtless now be inclined to treat me with the respect due to my years and experience." "I believe," he said, "that your gown and hat and furs make a charming difference----" "How perfectly horrid of you! I thought you admired my costume last night!" "Oh, Lord," he said--"you were sufficiently charming last night. But now, in your fluffy furs, you seem rather taller--less slender perhaps--and tremendously fetching----"