Nature abhors a vacuum. Samuel Marlowe was a susceptible young man, and
for many a long month his heart had been lying empty, all swept and
garnished, with "Welcome" on the mat. This girl seemed to rush in and
fill it. She was not the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She was the
third prettiest. He had an orderly mind, one capable of classifying and
docketing girls. But there was a subtle something about her, a sort of
how-shall-one-put-it, which he had never encountered before. He
swallowed convulsively. His well-developed chest swelled beneath its
covering of blue flannel and invisible stripe. At last, he told
himself, he was in love, really in love, and at first sight, too, which
made it all the more impressive. He doubted whether in the whole
course of history anything like this had ever happened before to
anybody. Oh, to clasp this girl to him and--

But she had bitten him in the arm. That was hardly the right spirit.
That, he felt, constituted an obstacle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried.

Well, of course, if she regretted her rash act ... After all, an
impulsive girl might bite a man in the arm in the excitement of the
moment and still have a sweet, womanly nature....

"The crowd seems to make Pinky-Boodles so nervous."

Sam might have remained mystified, but at this juncture there proceeded
from a bundle of rugs in the neighbourhood of the girl's lower ribs a
sharp yapping sound, of such a calibre as to be plainly audible over
the confused noise of Mamies who were telling Sadies to be sure and