please."

"For both?" inquired she, blinking.

"Certainly. Mr. Rushcroft was my guest."

"Four twenty five," she announced, after computation on the back of
the menu.

He selected a five dollar bill from the rather plethoric purse and
handed it to her.

"Be so good as to keep the change," he said, and Miss Tilly went away
in a daze from which she did not emerge for a long, long time.

Later on she felt inspired to jot down, for use no doubt in some
future literary production, a concise, though general, description of
the magnificent Mr. Barnes. She utilised the back of the bill-of-fare
and she wrote with the feverish ardour of one who dreads the loss of a
first impression. I herewith append her visual estimate of the hero of
this story.

"He was a tall, shapely speciman of mankind," wrote Miss Tilly.
"Broad-shouldered. Smooth shaved face. Penetrating grey eyes. Short
curly hair about the colour of mine. Strong hands of good shape. Face
tanned considerable. Heavy dark eyebrows. Good teeth, very white.
Square chin. Lovely smile that seemed to light up the room for
everybody within hearing. Nose ideal. Mouth same. Voice aristocratic
and reverberating with education. Age about thirty or thirty one. Rich
as Croesus. Costume resembling the picture in the English novel the