old," she declared. "Come, I must go. You
haven't been a bit nice to me. When shall I see you again?"

"It is," he answered, "for you to say."

She looked at him for a moment thoughtfully.

"Supposing," she said, "that I cried off the yacht race to-day. Would
you take me out to lunch?"

He smiled.

"My dear lady," he said, "it is for Circe to command--and for me to
obey."

"And you'll come and have tea with me afterwards at the Waldorf?"

"That," Mr. Sabin declared, "will add still further to my happiness."

"Will you call for me, then--and where shall we have lunch, and at
what time? I must go and develop a headache at once, or that tiresome
Dalkeith boy will be pounding at my door."

"I will call for you at the Waldorf at half-past one," Mr. Sabin said.
"Unless you have any choice, I will take you to a little place downtown
where we can imagine ourselves back on the Continent, and where we shall
be spared the horror of green corn."

"Delightful," she murmured, buttoning her glove. "Then you shall take
me for a drive to Fifth Avenue, or to see somebody's tomb, and my woman
shall make some real Russian tea for us in my sitting-room. Really, I
think I'm doing very well for the first day. Is the spell beginning to
work?"

"Hideously," he assured her. "I feel already that the only thing I dread
in life are these two hours before luncheon."

She nodded.

"That is quite as it should be. Don't trouble to come down with me. I
believe that Dalkeith pere is hanging round somewhere, and in view of my
headache perhaps you had better remain in the background for the moment.
At one-thirty, then!"

Mr. Sabin smiled as she passed out of the room, and lit a cigarette.

"I think," he said to himself, "that the arrival of Felix is opportune."

CHAPTER VII

They sat together at a small table, looking upon a scene which was
probably unique in the history of the great restaurant. The younger man
was both frankly interested and undoubtedly curious. Mr. Sabin, though
his eyes seemed everywhere, retained to the full extent that nonchalance
of manner which all his life he had so assiduously cultivated.

"It is wonderful, my dear Felix," he said, leisurely drawing his
cigarette-case from his pocket, "wonderful what good fellowship can
be evolved by a kindred interest in sport, and a bottle or so of good
champagne. But, after all, this is not to be taken seriously."

"Shamrock the fourth! Shamrock the fourth!"

A tal