"Why?"

"Well," he admitted with a laugh, "it's probably because I like to hear
myself talk to you. Besides, I've always the hope that you'll suddenly
become conversational, and that's a possibility exciting enough to give
anybody an appetite."

"But I _have_ conversed with you," she said.

"Only a little. What you said acted like a cocktail to inspire me for a
desire for more."

"I am afraid that you were not named Kelly in vain."

"You mean blarney? No, it's merely frankness. Let me get you some
bath-slippers--"

"Oh--but if I am to lunch here--I can't do it this way!" she exclaimed
in flushed consternation.

"Indeed you must learn to do that without embarrassment, Miss West. Tie
up your robe at the throat, tuck up your sleeves, slip your feet into a
nice pair of brand-new bath-slippers, and I'll ring for luncheon."

"I--don't--want to--" she began; but he went away into the hall, rang,
and presently she heard the ascending clatter of a dumb-waiter. From it
he took the luncheon card and returned to where she was sitting at a
rococo table. She blushed as he laid the card before her, and would have
nothing to do with it. The result was that he did the ordering, sent the