in these parts, or the greatest failure. Nothing between. That's what I
must always have--something sensational--something to make people howl
at me, or to make them want to light bonfires in my honor. That's
characteristic, isn't it?"

And Doreen, who was dressed in a black skirt, with a scarlet velvet
bodice which did justice to her brilliant complexion and soft, dark
hair, paused in the act of turning out a number of glittering glass
balls into her lap.

"Very," said Dudley, as he made his way carefully to the nearest chair
and sat down to look at her.

He was up to his knees in brown-paper parcels, over which barricade he
stretched out his hand.

Doreen affected not to see it. She began to tie bits of fancy string
into the little rings in the glass balls, cutting off the ends with a
pair of scissors.

"Aren't you going to shake hands with me?" asked Dudley, impatiently.

Doreen answered without looking tip.

"No. Not yet."

"What's the matter now?"

"Oh, I am offended."