"Yes. Didn't you get my note saying that all work on my bridge was
stopped by the cold and that I would run down to see you?"

"To see me--plus the world, the flesh, and the devil!"

"Now, Dodie!" he protested, with a smirk on his handsome, richly
colored face.

The girl's eyes hardened into black diamonds as she met his assured
gaze. "Mr. Brice-Ashton, you will hereafter kindly address me as 'Miss
Gantry.' You must be aware that I am now _out_."

"Oh, I've no objections, just so _we're_ not out," he punned.

She gave him her shoulder, and peered eagerly through the pickets of
the iron fence at a train that was backing into the station. Ashton
shrugged, lighted a gilt-tipped cigarette, and asked: "Permit me to
inquire, Miss Gon-tray, if I'm not the happy man for whom you wait,
who is?"

She replied without turning: "How can I tell until I see him? I think
it will be the hero. If not, it will be the earl."

"Hero?--earl?" repeated Ashton.

"Yes, whichever one Vievie leaves for me."

"What! Genevieve? Miss Leslie? She's not--Is she really coming home so
soon?--when she had such a chance for a gay season in London?"