“Not that I know of. But he’s going to be exiled or forced into hiding or something evasive and lonely. Some boresome family row that threatens to burst into a lawsuit, and when it does, Jack has to take cover and keep it until it’s over, so as not to be called as a witness. So you needn’t feel insulted simply because he is brooding on his own affairs to the neglect—” “I’m not feeling insulted,” denied the girl vigorously. “It’s nothing to me whether people remember me or not.” Suddenly her face sparkled and her mobile lips quivered delicately with suppressed glee. “Oh, but I _have_ been insulted. I’ve saved it up to tell you.” “Business of listening eagerly,” said the actress. “Who did it?” “A man.” “Naturally. Hence the dimple.” She pointed an accusing finger at Darcy’s cheek. “Where?” “Mouseley’s restaurant, on the Circle.” “Gracious, child! You _are_ peeking around the comers of life. Don’t you know the Mouse-Trap isn’t respectable?” “I do now. I didn’t then. Tea was all I wanted. The tea was respectable enough. It was very good tea.” “Never mind the tea. Tell me the rest.” “He—the man—came over to my table. He wasn’t a bad-looking man at all; so freshcolored and pinky-brown, and dressed like the back page of a magazine. And he called me”—Darcy chuckled most reprehensibly at this point—“he called me Miss Glad-Eyes.” “Did you shoo him away?” “I told him he’d made a mistake, and he said he’d like to make one like it every day in the week and pulled out a chair and sat down. It was awfully funny.” “It sounds so. What did you do then?” “I don’t know what I’d have done, but I didn’t have to do anything. Another man came up—” “Two!” murmured Gloria. “Shades of Circe! Well?”