"No." He shook his head. "But I believe I have guessed their
significance. And it has made me happier than I can tell you. It has made
me feel that our interests are one, as if Destiny had intended us for
each other."

"I'm sure I don't see why it should," she said shortly, looking at him in
a bewildered, disapproving way. "I didn't know you were that kind. It
sounds awfully self-seeking. I do not believe you've guessed right." Her
face brightened. "That is it. You've got some idea into your head, and
it's evidently far from the correct one. You wouldn't be the Bobby I know
if it were."

"Then tell me what the correct one is," he coaxed. "If I am on the wrong
track, set me on the right one."

"Not I," she returned firmly. "The thing for us to decide is just what
sort of a dinner you are going to have. You want some really interesting
features. I insist on that."

He threw wide his arms. "I give you carte blanche, here and now, Kitty.
All that I insist on are the butterfly effects. Beyond that, I leave
everything in your hands; but I must have them."

Kitty's eyes gleamed with pleasure. She loved to manage other people's
affairs. "I'll see to them," she affirmed. "Just give me a little time to
think them up. What shall we have afterward? Some music?"

"So commonplace," he objected, "and the place is too small."

"Yes-s-s," she reluctantly agreed. "And you don't want very many people.
Just our own especial little group."

"It will have to be small," he warned her. "My quarters do not admit of
anything very extensive."

"Whom shall we have?" Mrs. Hampton began to count on her fingers. "The
Habershams, and Edith Symmes, and Horace Penfield, and Warren and myself,
and Marcia, and Wilfred Ames, and yourself." She paused, a look of dismay
overspreading her face. "We'll have to have another woman. Who on earth
shall it be?"

"A butterfly dinner without the Mariposa would seem like _Hamlet_ with
the Prince left out, wouldn't it?" suggested Hayden.

"Oh!" Kitty gasped joyously. "Mademoiselle Mariposa! Do, do, invite her.
What fun! Do you think she will come? You know Marcia knows her, but she
will not talk about her ever, because, she says, Mademoiselle Mariposa
has requested her not to. So she will not say where and how she met her.
Mean thing! Of course, I've only seen her in her little mask and
mantilla. You do not suppose she would wear them to a dinner, do you? I
am dying to see her without them. Horace Penf