y say.

Hennie had finished. He was still very warm.

I seized the butterfly list off the table. "I say--what about an ice,
Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What
about a fresh pineapple cream?"

Hennie strongly approved. The waitress had her eye on us. The order was
taken when she looked up from her crumbs.

"Did you say tangerine and ginger? I like ginger. You can bring me one."
And then quickly, "I wish that orchestra wouldn't play things from
the year One. We were dancing to that all last Christmas. It's too
sickening!"

But it was a charming air. Now that I noticed it, it warmed me.

"I think this is rather a nice place, don't you, Hennie?" I said.

Hennie said: "Ripping!" He meant to say it very low, but it came out
very high in a kind of squeak.

Nice? This place? Nice? For the first time she stared about her, trying
to see what there was... She blinked; her lovely eyes wondered. A very
good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black
ribbon. But him she simply couldn't see. There was a hole in the air
where he was. She looked through and through him.

Finally the little flat spoons lay still on the glass plates. Hennie
looked rather exhausted, but she pulled on her white gloves again. She
had some trouble with her diamond wrist-watch; it got in her way. She
tugged at it--tried to break the stupid little thing--it wouldn't break.
Finally, she had to drag her glove over. I saw, after that, she couldn't
stand this place a moment longer, and, indeed, she jumped up and turned
away while I went through the vulgar act of paying for the tea.

And then we were outside again. It had grown dusky. The sky was
sprinkled with small stars; the big lamps glowed. While we waited for
the car to come up she stood on the step, just as before, twiddling her
foot, looking down.

Hennie bounded forward to open the door and she got in and sank back
with--oh--such a sigh!

"Tell him," she gasped, "to drive as fast as he can."

Hennie grinned at his friend the chauffeur. "Allie veet!" said he. Then
he composed himself and sat on the small seat facing us.

The gold powder-box came out again. Again the poor little puff was
shaken; again there was that swift, deadly-secret glance between her and
the mirror.

We tore through the black-and-gold town like a pair of scissors tearing
through brocade. Hennie had great difficulty not to look as though he
were hanging on to som