Carlton poured out his coffee, with a shake of his head, and
frowned. "Oh, you can laugh," he said, "but I didn't sleep at
all last night. I lay awake making speeches to her. I know
they are going to put me between the wrong sisters," he
complained, "or next to one of those old ladies-in-waiting, or
whatever they are."

"How are you going to begin?" said Miss Morris. "Will you tell
her you have followed her from London--or from New York,
rather--that you are young Lochinvar, who came out of the
West, and--"

"I don't know," said Carlton, meditatively, "just how I shall
begin; but I know the curtain is going to rise promptly at
eight o'clock--about the time the soup comes on, I think. I
don't see how she can help but be impressed a little bit. It
isn't every day a man hurries around the globe on account of a
girl's photograph; and she IS beautiful, isn't she?"

Miss Morris nodded her head encouragingly.

"Do you know, sometimes," said Carlton, glancing over his
shoulders to see if the waiters were out of hearing, "I fancy
she has noticed me. Once or twice I have turned my head in
her direction without meaning to, and found her looking--well,
looking my way, at least. Don't you think that is a good
sign?" he asked, eagerly.

"It depends on what you call a `good sign,`" said Miss Morris,
judicially. "It is a sign you're good to look at, if that's