might. If she were really fond of music!

Once again Kitty's glance roved back to Hawksley. This time she
encountered a concentration in his unwavering stare. She did not
quite like it. Perhaps he was only thinking about something and wasn't
actually seeing her. Still, it quieted down the fluttering gayety of her
mood. There was a sun spot of her own that became visible whenever her
interest in Cutty's monologue lagged. Perhaps Hawksley had his sun spot.

"And so," she heard Cutty say. "Mr. Hawksley is going to become an
American citizen. Kitty, what are some of the principles of good
citizenship?"

"To be nice to policemen. Not to meddle with politics, because it is
vulgar. To vote perfunctorily. To 'let George do it' when there are
reforms to be brought about. To keep your hat on when the flag goes
by because otherwise you will attract attention. To find fault without
being able to offer remedies. To keep in debt because life here in
America would be monotonous without bill collectors."

Cutty interrupted with a laugh. "Kitty, you'll 'scare Hawksley off the
map!"

"Let him know the worst at once," retorted Kitty, flashing a smile at
the victim.

"Spoofing me--what?" said Hawksley, appealing to his host.

This quality of light irony in a woman was a distinct novelty to
Hawksley. She had humour, then? So much the better. An added zest to the
game he was planning. He recalled now that she was not of the clinging
kind either. A woman with a humorous turn of mind was ten times more
elusive than a purely sentimental one. Give him an hour or two with that
old Amati--if she really cared for music! She would be coming to the
apartment again--some afternoon, when his host was out of the way.
Better still, he would call her by telephone; the plea of loneliness.
Scoundrel? Of course he was. He was not denying that. He would embark
upon this affair without the smug varnish of self-lies. Fire--to play
with it!

He ate his portion of beefsteak, potatoes, and toast, and emptied his
coffee cup. It was really the first substantial meal he had had in many
hours. A feeling of satisfaction began to permeate him. He smiled at
Miss Frances, who shook her head dubiously. She could not quite make him
out pathologically. Perhaps she had been treating him as shell-shocked
when there was nothing at all the matter with his nerves.

Presently Kuroki came in with a yellow envelope, which he laid at the
side of Cutty's plate.

"Telegram