ot?" he demanded.

"I suppose I am," she ventured, with a shy smile.

"Where is your father?"

"He went out."

"Any letters for me--or messages?"

"A man--he had one eye--came. He asked who you are."

"What?"

"I think he was German. He had only one eye. He asked your name."

"What did you say?"

"I told him. Then he went away."

Barres shrugged:

"Somebody who wants to sell artists' materials," he concluded. Then he
looked at the girl: "So you're lonely, are you? Where are your three
cats? Aren't they company for you?"

"Yes...."

"Well, then," he said gaily, "why not give a party for them? That
ought to amuse you, Dulcie."

The child still smiled; Barres walked on past her a pace or two,
halted, turned irresolutely, arrived at some swift decision, and came
back, suddenly understanding that he need seek no further--that he had
discovered his guest of the evening at his very elbow.

"Did you and your father have your supper, Dulcie?"

"My father went out to eat at Grogan's."

"How about you?"

"I can find something."

"Why not dine with me?" he suggested.

The child stared, bewildered, then went a little pale.

"Shall we have a dinner party for two--you and I, Dulcie? What do you
say?"

She said nothing, but her big grey eyes were fixed on him in a passion
of inquiry.

"A real party," he repeated. "Let the people get their own mail and
packages until your father returns. Nobody's going to sneak in,
anyway. Or, if that won't do, I'll call up Grogan's and tell your
father to come back because you are going to dine in my studio with
me. Do you know the telephone number? Very well; get Grogan's for me.
I'll speak to your father."

Dulcie's hand trembled on the receiver as she called up Grogan's;
Barres bent over the transmitter:

"Soane, Dulcie is going to take dinner in my studio with me. You'll
have to come back on duty, when you've eaten." He hung up, looked at
Dulcie and laughed.

"I wanted company as much as you did," he confessed. "Now, go and put
on your prettiest frock, and we'll be very grand and magnificent. And
afterward we'll talk and look at books and pretty things--and maybe
we'll turn on the Victrola and I'll teach you to dance--" He had
already begun to ascend the stairs:

"In half an hour, Dulcie!" he called back; "--and you may bring the
Prophet if you like.... Shall I ask Mr. Westmore to join us?"

"I'd rather be all alone with you," she said shyly.

He laughed an