.

"Some remarkable Poiret and Lucille gowns, Clive.... And a great deal
of paint." She remained a moment in the same attitude--leisurely
inspecting the throng below, then turned to him, her calm
preoccupation changing to a shyly engaging smile.

"Are you still of the same mind concerning my personal
attractiveness?"

"I _have_ spoiled you!" he concluded, pretending chagrin.

"Is that spoiling me--to hear you say you approve of me?"

"Of course not, you dear girl! Nothing could ever spoil you."

She lifted her Clover Club, looking across the frosty glass at him;
and the usual rite was silently completed. They were hungry; her
appetite was always a natural and healthy one, and his sometimes
matched it, as happened that night.

"Now, this is wonderful," he said, lighting a cigarette between
courses and leaning forward, elbows on the cloth, and his hands
clasped under his chin; "a good show, a good dinner, and good company.
What surfeited monarch could ask more?"

"Why mention the company last, Clive?"

"I've certainly spoiled you," he said with a groan; "you've tasted
adulation; you prefer it to your dinner."

"The question is do _you_ prefer my company to the dinner and the
show? _Do_ you! If so why mention me last in the catalogue of your
blessings?"

"I always mention you last in my prayers--so that whoever listens will
more easily remember," he said gaily.

The laughter still made the dark blue eyes brilliant but they grew
more serious when she said: "You don't really ever _pray_ for me,
Clive. Do you?"

"Yes. Why not?"

The smile faded in her eyes and in his.

"I didn't know you prayed at all," she remarked, looking down at her
wine glass.

"It's one of those things I happen to do," he said with a slight
shrug.

They mused for a while in silence, her mind pursuing its trend back to
childhood, his idly considering the subject of prayer and wondering
whether the habit had become too mechanical with him, or whether his
less selfish petitions might possibly carry to the Source of All
Things.

Then having drifted clear of this nebulous zone of thought, and
coffee having been served, they came back to earth and to each other
with slight smiles of recognition--delicate salutes acknowledging each
other's presence and paramount importance in a world which was going
very gaily.

They discussed the play; she hummed snatches of its melodies below her
breath at intervals, her dark blue eyes always fixe