"A good one."

They went into the dining-room and sat down, Osborn in his chair, she
on the hearthrug beside him, and she let him tell his story first, so
that afterwards all his attention should be rapt on hers. He said
gaily: "I've had a ripping evening. Desmond was in his very best form,
and he'd got two more fellows there, and we were a jolly lot, I assure
you, my kid. By Jove! don't I wish I belonged to that club! I've half
a mind to get Desmond to put me up. He would, like a shot. We had an
awf'ly decent dinner; they give you _some_ dinner at that club.
We drank toasts; you'd like to hear about that, wouldn't you? That old
one, you know: 'Our sweethearts and wives; and may they never meet!'"

Osborn laughed.

"I've had a nice evening, too," said Marie, leaning against the
caressing hand.

"That's good," said Osborn. "Miss Winter came and you had dinner here,
I suppose. What did you see?"

"We didn't go to the theatre."

"Not go!" said Osborn, "how was that? You weren't seedy again, were
you, kid?"

"Rather," Marie murmured, "so Julia took me to a doctor instead."

"My dear!" Osborn cried.