"Is Mr. Abbott going with us?" she inquired.

"Donald is sulking," Nora answered. "For once the Barone got ahead of him

in engaging the motor-boat."

"I wish you would not call him by his first name."

"And why not? I like him, and he is a very good comrade."

"You do not call the Barone by his given name."

"Heavens, no! If I did he would kiss me. These Italians will never

understand western customs, mother. I shall never marry an Italian, much

as I love Italy."

"Nor a Frenchman?" asked Celeste.

"Nor a Frenchman."

"I wish I knew if you meant it," sighed the mother.

"My dear, I have given myself to the stage. You will never see me being

led to the altar."

"No, you will do the leading when the time comes," retorted the mother.

"Mother, the men I like you may count upon the fingers of one hand. Three

of them are old. For the rest, I despise men."

"I suppose some day you will marry some poverty-stricken artist," said the

mother, filled with dark foreboding.

"You would not call Donald poverty-stricken."

"No. But you will never marry him."

"No. I never shall."

Celeste smoothed her hands, a little trick she had acquired from long

hours spent at the piano. "He will make some woman a good husband."

"That he will."

"And he is most desperately in love with you."

"That's nonsense!" scoffed Nora. "He thinks he is. He ought to fall in

love with you, Celeste. Every time you play the fourth ballade he looks

as if he was ready to throw himself at your feet."

"Pouf! For ten minutes?" Celeste laughed bravely. "He leaves me quickly

enough when you begin to sing."

"Glamour, glamour!"

"Well, I should not care for the article second-hand."

The arrival of Harrigan put an end to this dangerous trend of

conversation. He walked in tight proper pumps, and sat down. He was only

hungry now; the zest for dining was gone.

"Don't go sitting out in the night air, Nora," he warned.

"I sha'n't."

"And don't dance more than you ought to. Your mother would let you wear

the soles off your shoes if she thought you were attracting attention.

Don't do it."

"James, that is not true," the mother protested.

"Well, Molly, you do like to hear 'em talk. I wish they knew how to cook a

good club steak."

"I brought up a book from the village for you to-day," said Mrs. Harrigan,

sternly.

"I'll bet a dollar it's on how to keep the creases in a fellow's pants."

"Trousers."

"Pants," helping himself to the last of the romaine. "What time do you go

over?"

"At nine. We must be getting ready now," said Nora. "Don't wait up for

us."




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