"Very much, as far as they went. Where are you going now--I see that
your grinning Frenchman and upholstered palace on wheels are waiting for
you again."

"Well, I can't walk _all_ day--I'm going to Macy's to buy kitchen-ware.
You'd better do something else--I'm afraid you'll criticize my brooms and
saucepans!"

"All right, go alone. I'm going to the real Tiffany's."

"What for?"

"To squander my fortune, Pauline Pry. I'll meet you at Sherry's at
one-thirty. I suppose some kindly policeman will guide my faltering
footsteps in the right direction. Good-bye." And he closed the door of
the car in her radiant face.

They had a merry lunch an hour later, Austin ordering the meal and paying
for it with such evident pleasure that Sylvia could not help being
touched at his joy over his little legacy. Then he proposed that,
although they were a little late, they might go to a matinee, and
afterwards insisted on walking up Fifth Avenue and stopping for tea at
the Plaza.

"I've seen more beautiful cities than New York," he said, as they
sauntered along, much more slowly than most of the hurrying
throng,--"Paris, for instance--fairly alive with loveliness! But I don't
believe there's a place in the world that gives you the feeling of
_power_ that this does--especially just at this time of day, when the
lights are coming on, and all these multitudes of people going home after