"Not a bit of it! He's the last man in the world to worry himself
about love!"

Manella glanced him over with quite a superior air.

"Ah, perhaps you do not know!" And she waved her hands expressively.
"There was a wonderful lady came here to see him some weeks ago--she
stole up the hill at night, like a spirit--a little, little fairy
woman with golden hair--"

Gwent pricked up his ears and stood at attention.

"Yes? Really? You don't say so! 'A little fairy woman'? Sounds like
a story!"

"She wore the most lovely clothes"--went on Manella, clasping her
hands in ecstasy--"She stayed at the Plaza one night--I waited upon
her. I saw her in her bed--she had skin like satin, and eyes like
blue stars--her hair fell nearly to her ankles--she was like a
dream! And she went up the hill by moonlight all by herself, to find
HIM!"

Gwent listened with close interest.

"And I presume she found him?"

Manella nodded, and a sigh escaped her.

"Oh, yes, she found him! He told me that. And I am sure--something