you used to go on with at such a pace at Monte Carlo last
winter.'"

"Stop!" she cried. "You must stop, Mr. Carter."

So then I stopped. I folded the letter and handed it back to
her. Her cheeks flushed red as she took it.

"I thought you were a gentleman," said she, biting her lip.

"I was at Monte Carlo last winter myself," said I.

"Lord Mickleham," said the butler, throwing open the door.



RETRIBUTION

In future I am going to be careful what I do. I am also--and
this is by no means less important--going to be very careful what
Miss Dolly Foster does. Everybody knows (if I may quote her
particular friend Nellie Phaeton) that dear Dolly means no harm,
but she is "just a little harumscarum." I thanked Miss Phaeton
for the expression.

The fact is that "old lady M." (Here I quote Miss Dolly) sent for
me the other day. I have not the honor of knowing the Countess,
and I went in some trepidation. When I was ushered in, Lady
Mickleham put up her "starers." (You know those abominations!
Pince-nez with long torture--I mean tortoise--shell handles.)