king about at two and three
hundred dollar frocks and at blouses that were almost as cheap.

Paliser, turning to the waiter, translated passages from the menu.
"Surprised tomatoes, cocottish eggs, supreme on a sofa, ice Aurora
Borealis. And a baked potato." He turned to Cassy. "Barring the ice, a
baked potato is the only thing in which they can't stick grease."

"Et comme vin, monsieur?" enquired the waiter who ought to have been at
the front.

"Aqua pura. But probably you have not got it. Celestial Vichy, then." He
looked again at Cassy. "What else might displease your ladyship?"

"Do stop talking like a low comedian," Cassy vexatiously retorted. "If
you had not used force I would not be here. I could not make a row at
the door."

"No, one scene on Fifth Avenue is enough for one day."

"I should say so and it was you who made it. I was going quietly about
my business when I was derricked into your car."

"Not at all. You threw yourself at my head. If it had not been for me,
the policeman would have marched you off to prison."

Cassy laughed. "The dear man! He knew I would be worse off with you."

"Yes. He was certainly perspicacious. Where did you say you were going?"

Cassy removed her gloves. "Before I was attacked? To a music-shop. There
is a song I want to get for Mrs. Thingumagig's, Mrs. Beamish----"

"Mrs. Who?" Paliser asked. Again he had forgotten the lady. But from one
of memory's pantries her wraith peered out. "Ah, yes, of course! Well,
we can stop by for it and you can run it over in the country to-night.
You remember that you are to dine with me, don't you?"

Cassy lifted a lip as a dog does when about to bite. "Remember it, I
have thought of nothing else."

But now the waiter put a dish between them and Paliser said: "You make
me feel like this surprised tomato."

Then came the bite. "While you are about it, you can feel like both of
them. I am not going."

Argument weakens everything and wearies everybody--except the young. The
mouths of youth are naturally full of objections and insults. Were it
otherwise, young people would be too servile to the past, too respectful
to the present and the future would not know them as guides.

Paliser, young in years, but old at heart, omitted to argue. He did what
is perhaps superior, he changed the subject. "What is this song you were
speaking of? Why not try that thing of Rimsky-Korsakov, the 'Chanson
Hindoue'?"

Then, throughout that course and