"Part French and part Italian. But now look here, Young Lady--or I
mean, Miss Clayton. A fellow at the hotel was telling me something
last night that made me _sick_. He said American girls sometimes
got awfully up against it here. He said one actually starved last
year. Now, I don't like that kind of business. Look here, Young Lady,
I want you to promise that if you--you or any of your gang--get up
against it you'll cable William P. Johnson, of Cincinnati, Ohio."

The twilight grey had stolen upon Paris. And there was a mist which
the street lights only penetrated a little way--as sometimes one's
knowledge of life may only penetrate life a very little way. Her cab
stopped by a blockade, she watched the burly back of William P.
Johnson disappearing into the mist. The red box which held the
yellow opera cloak she could see longer than all else.

"You never can tell," murmured Virginia. "It just goes to show that
you never can tell."

And whatever it was you never could tell had brought to Virginia's
girlish face the tender knowingness of the face of a woman.




II

THE PLEA


Senator Harrison concluded his argument and sat down. There was no