risten the Callisto or do
anything else that he wished. "But I am so sorry you are going away,"
she went on. "I hate to lose you for so long, and we shall not even be
able to write."

"Why couldn't we be married now," he asked, "and go to Jupiter for our
honeymoon?"

"I'm afraid, dear," she answered, "you would be sorry a few years hence
if I didn't take my degree; and, besides, as you have asked those other
men, there wouldn't be room for me."

"We could have made other arrangements," he replied, "had I been able
to persuade you to go."

"Won't you dine with us at Delmonico's this evening, and go to the
play?" she asked. "Papa has taken a box."

"Of course I will," he said, brightening up. "What are you going to
wear?"

"Oh, I suppose something light and cool, for it's so hot," she answered.

"I'll go now, so as to be ready," he said, getting up and going towards
the door to which Sylvia followed him.

A man in livery stood at the step of the phaeton. Ayrault got in and
turned on the current, and his man climbed up behind.

On turning into the main road Ayrault was about to increase his speed,
when Sylvia, who had taken a short cut appeared at the wayside carrying
her hat in one hand and her gloves in the other.

"I couldn't let you go all by yourself," she said. "The fact is, I
wanted to be with you."

"You are the sweetest thing that ever lived, and I'll love you all my
days," he said, getting down and helping Sylvia to the seat beside him.
"What a nuisance this fellow behind is!" he continued--referring to the
groom--"for, though he is a Russian, and speaks but little English, it
is unpleasant to feel he is there."

"You'll have to write your sweet nothings, instead of saying them,"
Sylvia replied.

"For you to leave around for other girls to see," answered Ayrault with
a smile.

"I don't know what your other girls do," she returned, "but with me you
are safe."

Ayrault fairly made his phaeton spin, going up the grades like a shot
and down like a bird. On reaching New York, he left Sylvia at her
house, then ran his machine to a florist's, where he ordered some
lilies and roses, and then steered his way to his club, where he
dressed for dinner. Shortly before the time he repaired to
Delmonico's--which name had become historical, though the founders
themselves were long dead--and sat guard at a table till Sylvia,
wearing his flowers and looking more beautiful than any of them,
arrived wit