perplexity. At last he addressed himself to Marietta.

"Have you ever dined with a cardinal?" he asked.

"No, Signorino," that patient sufferer replied.

"Well, I'm in the very dickens of a quandary--son' proprio nel
dickens d'un imbarazzo." he informed her.

"Dickens--?" she repeated.

"Si--Dickens, Carlo, celebre autore inglese. Why not?" he
asked.

Marietta gazed with long-suffering eyes at the horizon.

"Or, to put it differently," Peter resumed, "I've come all the
way from London with nothing better than a dinner jacket in my
kit."

"Dina giacca? Cosa e?" questioned Marietta.

"No matter what it is--the important thing is what it is n't.
It is n't a dress-coat."

"Non e un abito nero," said Marietta, seeing that he expected
her to say something.

"Well--? You perceive my difficulty. Do you think you could
make me one?" said Peter.