Shirley rose at once, although loath to leave.

"I had no idea it was so late," she said. "How the time flies!"
Then mockingly she added: "Come, Jefferson--be a good boy and find
a cab."

They passed out of the Gardens by the gate facing the Théâtre de
l'Odéon, where there was a long string of _fiacres_ for hire. They
got into one and in fifteen minutes they were back at the Grand
Hotel.

At the office they told Shirley that her aunt had already come in
and gone to her room, so she hurried upstairs to dress for dinner
while Jefferson proceeded to the Hotel de l'Athénée on the same
mission. He had still twenty-five minutes before dinner time, and
he needed only ten minutes for a wash and to jump into his dress
suit, so, instead of going directly to his hotel, he sat down at
the Café de la Paix. He was thirsty, and calling for a vermouth
_frappé_ he told the _garçon_ to bring him also the American
papers.

The crowd on the boulevard was denser than ever. The business
offices and some of the shops were closing, and a vast army of
employés, homeward bound, helped to swell the sea of humanity that
pushed this way and that.

But Jefferson had no eyes for the crowd. He was thinking of
Shirley. What singular, mysterious power had this girl acquired
over him? He, who had scoffed at the very idea of marriage only a