te respectable
and quiet, don't you know!"

The twinkle was alight in Captain Fanshawe's eyes. It shone more
brightly still as he added, "Everybody turns up sooner or later in the
Duchess's box. Have you happened to meet--the Prince!"

For a moment Claire groped for the connection, then dimpled merrily.

"Not yet. No! but I am hoping--"

The waiter approached with plates of chicken in aspic, and more rolls of
crisp browned bread. Claire sent a thought to Cecil finishing a box of
sardines, with her book propped up against the cocoa jug. The
Cinderella _role_ was forgotten while her eyes roved around, studying
the silver dishes on the various tables.

"When you were a small boy, Captain Fanshawe, did you go out to
parties?"

Captain Fanshawe knitted his brows. This charming girl was a little
difficult to follow conversationally; she leapt from one subject to
another with disconcerting agility.

"Er--pardon me! Is that question put to me in my--er--private, or
imaginary capacity?"

"Private, of course. But naturally you did. Did you have pockets?"

"To the best of my remembrance I was disguised as a midshipmite, with
white duck trousers of a prodigious width. They used to crackle, I
remember. There was room for a dozen pockets."

Claire laid her arms on the table, so that her face drew nearer his own.
Her voice fell to a stage whisper--

"Did you--ever--take--something--home?"

The Captain threw back his head with a peal of laughter.

"Miss Gifford, what a question! I was an ordinary human boy. _Of
course_ I did. And sat on my spoils in the carriage going back, and was
scolded for spoiling my clothes. I had a small brother at home."

"Well--I have a small friend! She has letters after her name, and is
very learned and clever, but she has a _very_ sweet tooth. Do you
think, perhaps--in this bag--"

"Leave it to me!" he said firmly, and when the waiter next appeared, he
received an order to bring more bon-bons--plenty of bon-bons--a
selection of all the small dainties in silver dishes.

"He thinks I _am_ having a feast!" Claire said demurely, as she watched
the progress of selection; then she met Erskine Fanshawe's eyes, and
nodded in response to an unspoken question, "And I _am_! I'm having a
lovely time!"

"I wish it were possible that you could oftener--"

"Well, who knows? A week ago I had made up my mind that nothing
exciting would ever happen again, and then this invitation ar