me--although it would be very nice--we should starve."

"Then let us starve," he cried vehemently.

"Oh, no. Oh, most decidedly no. Starvation would be so unbecoming. I
should get to be a fright--a bundle of bones and a rundle of skin--and
you'd be horrified--I couldn't bear it."

"If you would only say you cared a scrap for me it would be easier," he
pleaded.

"I should have thought it would be harder."

"Anyhow, say it--say it this once--just this once."

She bent her head to hide a smile, and said in a voice adorably soft:

"Dick, shut your eyes."

"Viviette!" he cried, with sudden hope.

"No. Shut your eyes. Turn round. Now tell me," she continued, when he
had turned obediently, "just what I've got on. No!" she held him by the
shoulders, "you're not to move."

Now, she was wearing a white blouse and a blue skirt and tan shoes, and
a yellow rose was pinned at her bosom.

"What dress am I wearing?"