most--a fixed and uncomfortable smirk on his
round, red face: "Not at all, Mrs. Ruthven, if you have anything better
for him--"

"I have--an allopathic dose of it. Thank you, Mr. Neergard.
Rosamund, we ought to start, you know: Gerald!"--with quiet
significance--"_good_-bye, Mr. Neergard. Please do not buy up the rest
of Long Island, because we need a new kitchen-garden very badly."

Rosamund scarcely nodded his dismissal. And the next moment Neergard
found himself quite alone, standing with the smirk still stamped on his
stiffened features, his hat-brim and gloves crushed in his rigid
fingers, his little black mousy eyes fixed on nothing, as usual.

A wandering head-waiter thought they were fixed on him and sidled up
hopeful of favours, but Neergard suddenly snarled in his face and moved
toward the door, wiping the perspiration from his nose with the most
splendid handkerchief ever displayed east of Sixth Avenue and west of
Third.

Mrs. Ruthven's motor moved up from its waiting station; Rosamund was
quite ready to enter when Alixe said cordially: "Where can we drop you,
dear? _Do_ let us take you to the exchange if you are going there--"

Now Rosamund had meant to go wherever they were going, merely because
they evidently wished to be alone. The abruptness of the check both
irritated and amused her.

"If I knew anybody in the Bronx I'd make you take me there," she said
vindictively; "but as I don't you may drop me at the Orchils'--you
uncivil creatures. Gerald, I know _you_ want me, anyway, because you've
promised to adore, honour, and obey me. . . . If you'll come with me now
I'll play double dummy with you. No? Well, of all ingratitude! . . .
Thank you, dear, I perceive that this is Fifth Avenue, and furthermore
that this ramshackle chassis of yours has apparently broken down at the
Orchils' curb. . . . Good-bye, Gerald; it never did run smooth, you
know. I mean the course of T.L. as well as this motor. Try to be a good
boy and keep moving; a rolling stone acquires a polish, and you are not
in the moss-growing business, I'm sure--"

"Rosamund! For goodness' sake!" protested Alixe, her gloved hands at her
ears.

"Dear!" said Rosamund cheerfully, "take your horrid little boy!"

And she smiled dazzlingly upon Gerald, then turned up her pretty nose at
him, but permitted him to attend her to the door.

When he returned to Alixe, and the car was speeding Parkward, he began
again, eagerly:

"Jack asked me to c