their countenances--it was so very unusual, I imagined, for their
plans so persistently to miscarry--but both Bee and I have an extremely
guiltless and innocent eye, and we used an unwinking gaze of genial
friendliness which disarmed them.

At last they flung their cloaks around them, as their servants announced
their carriage for the third time.

"_Such_ an evening!" moaned Von Engel.

It might mean anything!

Bee bit her lip.

"I was never more loath to leave. Promise that you will be here when we
return. It will only be ten days! Promise us!"

"I hardly think--" began Jimmie, but Bee trod on his foot.

"Ouch!" said Jimmie, fiercely.

"I beg your pardon, Jimmie, dear!" murmured Bee. "It is possible," said
Bee to Von Engel. "We never make plans, you know. We go whenever we are
bored, or when we have nothing pleasant to look forward to."

"Oh, then, pray remain! We shall _fly_ to see you the moment we are
free!"

"That surely is an inducement," said Bee, with a little laugh, which
caused Von Engel to colour.

Von Engel's servant, under pretext of arranging the collar of his
master's cloak, here whispered peremptorily to him, and the officer
started with a hurried "Yes, yes!" to his servant.

They bent and kissed our hands, and Von Furzmann, in the violence of his
emotion, flung his arms around Jimmie and kissed him on the cheek. Then
they dashed away down the long corridor, looking back and waving their
hands to us.

Jimmie came into the room with his hand on the spot where Von Furzmann
had kissed him.

"Well, I'll be damned!" he said. "That was all _your_ fault," he added,
looking at Bee.

"I've always said somebody would steal you, Jimmie!" I said.

"Did you enjoy yourself, dear?" asked Mrs. Jimmie kindly of Bee.

Bee stood up yawning.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "These officers try to be so impressive.
They urge you to take a little more pepper in the same tone that they
would ask you to elope."

Jimmie beamed on her.

When Bee and I were alone, I dropped limply on the bed. Bee turned to
the light and read a crumpled note which Von Furzmann had thrust into
her hand at parting. She handed it to me:

"I shall write every day, and shall count the hours until I see you
again!" it read. I could just hear him shouting, "My heart is on fire!"

"Well, did you enjoy it?" I asked her.

"Enjoy it? Certainly not!"

"Why, I thought you were having the time of your life!" I cried.

She laughed