shoulders and gave me a slight shake. "Don't tell me it was over Pat
Whitworth you had that ruckus at the Ritz-Carlton day before
yesterday!"

"No, Monsieur, it was not," I answered, looking him straight in the
eyes and feeling as if I was looking into kind eyes that I had seen
close to me forever in the old convent in France, and as I spoke I
could not help it that I raised my arm in its covering of a man's
tweed and let my woman's fingers grasp one of the long fingers on my
shoulder and cling to it as I had done other long fingers just like
them that had guided my first footsteps down the sunny garden paths of
the old Chateau de Grez.

"I'm your Uncle Robert, sonny, and don't you ever forget that, sir,"
he answered as he gave me another shake and I could see a longing for
the embrace, which I so desired, in his keen eyes that had softened
with a veil of mist in the last second. "Lord, I'm glad you're not a
woman! And from now on just stop knowing the creatures exist--Pat
Whitworth and her kind. None of that tea-throwing in Hayesville, sir!
We've got work to do to put out a fire--fire of dishonor and
devastation. No time for tea-fighting here. Come on to my car over
there; we've no time to waste."

"What is it that you say about that throwing of tea which occurred
only the day before yesterday in the City of New York many hundreds of
miles from here? How did that knowledge arrive here, my Uncle Robert?"
I questioned.

"Associated Press, sir. The greatest power in this America. Associated
Press! Full account, you and me, titles and all, printed in this