every time!"

"How?" she could not resist asking, and the modest black hose she
was thinking of purchasing dangled against his gorgeous red ones in
friendliest fashion.

"Well, Sir--I don't know. I don't think it can be the
clothes,"--judicially surveying her.

"The clothes," murmured Virginia, "were bought in Paris."

"Well, you've got _me_. Maybe it's the way you wear 'em. Maybe
it's 'cause you look as if you used to play tag with your brother.
Something--anyhow--gives a fellow that 'By jove there's an American
girl!' feeling when he sees you coming round the corner."

"But why--?"

"Lord--don't begin on _why_. You can say _why_ to
anything. Why don't the French talk English? Why didn't they lay
Paris out at right angles? Now look here, Young Lady, for that
matter--_why_ can't you help me buy some presents for my wife?
There'd be nothing wrong about it," he hastened to assure her,
"because my wife's a mighty fine woman."

The very small American looked at the very large one. Now Virginia
was a well brought up young woman. Her conversations with strange
men had been confined to such things as, "Will you please tell me
the nearest way to--?" but preposterously enough--she could not for
the life of her have told why--frowning upon this huge American--fat