ge, liked what she liked, never presumed. In considering these
factors, she considered her gloves. Thank God, they did not smell of
benzine!

"Grand Central!"

Cassy, abandoning Paliser there, went on to Fifth Avenue, where, with
the protection of cross-town traffic, she attempted to get to the other
side. But half-way, she saw, or thought she saw, the young woman to whom
a certain person was engaged. She turned to look, backed into the
traffic-sign and put it in motion. Instantly motors were careering at
each other. Instantly a purple policeman grown suddenly black, was
smitten with St. Vitus.

Dancing and bellowing as he danced, he righted the sign and swore at
Cassy, who, for added outrage, had flung herself at him and was smiling
sweetly in his swollen face. About them the torrent poured. Then all at
once, in a riot that afterwards seemed to her phantasmagoric, the
policeman raised a forefinger in salute. From the maelstrom she was
hoisted bodily into a car. Somebody, the policeman probably, was
boosting her from behind. Never had she suffered such indignities! To
accentuate them, somebody else was shouting in her face.

"I've saved your life, you'll have to marry me."

"Well, I declare!" Cassy, horribly ruffled, exclaimed at Paliser, who
had the impudence to laugh. She smoothed the smock, patted the hat,
passed a gloved hand over her nose.

"You're all there," Paliser, amused by the mimic, was telling her. "What
is more, one pick-me-up deserves another."

With his stick, he poked at the mechanician, gestured with it,
indicating a harbour.

The car veered and stopped at a restaurant that had formerly resided in
Fourteenth Street, but which had moved, as the heart of Manhattan moved,
and was then thinking of moving again.

In the entrance were Cantillon and Ogston, agreeable young men, who
stood aside for Cassy, raised their hats at Paliser, nudging each other
with unfathomable good-fellowship.

"A peach!"

"No, a pair!"

Their pleasantries were lost. Cassy and Paliser moved on and in to the
Fifth Avenue room, crowded as usual on this high noon. But what are
head-waiters for? Promptly there was a table, one not too near the
orchestra and yet which gave on the street.

"What would you dislike the least?" Paliser from over a bill-of-fare
inquired. He had brought his hat and stick with him and, in spite of a
waiter's best efforts, had put both on the floor.

I am not fit to be seen, thought Cassy, loo