She made this peculiar announcement, not defiantly, not rudely, but
appealingly, graciously. It was not a rebuke for priggishness; it was
the unpresentable statement of a fact. I apologized for a lunatic habit
of speech and paraphrased my question.

"In a word," cried Dale, coming in on my heels with an elucidation of my
periphrasis, "what de Gex is driving at is--Do you prefer respectability
to ramping round?"

She turned slowly to him. "My dear boy, when do you think I was not
respectable?"

He jumped from the sofa as if the Chow dog had bitten him.

"Good Heavens, I never meant you to take it that way!"

She laughed, stretched up a lazy arm to him, and looked at him somewhat
quizzically in the face as he kissed her finger-tips. Although I could
have boxed the silly fellow's ears, I vow he did it in a very pretty
fashion. The young man of the day, as a general rule, has no more notion
how to kiss a woman's hand than how to take snuff or dance a pavane.
Indeed, lots of them don't know how to kiss a girl at all.

"My dear," she said. "I was much more respectable sitting on the stage
at tea with my horse, Sultan, than supping with you at the Savoy. You
don't know the deadly respectability of most people in the profession,
and the worst of it is that while we're being utterly dull and dowdy,
the public think we're having a devil of a time. So we don't even get
the credit of our virtues. I prefer the Savoy--and this." She turned to