45 on Sunday. Let me take you out in the motor. I’d like to see this husband chap of yours and the little girl, if––”

“Nay, nay,” she said, shaking her head. “I never mix my public affairs with my private ones. You are a public affair, if there ever was one. No, little Nellie will go out on the choo-choos.” She laughed suddenly, as if struck by a funny thought. Then, very seriously, she said:—“I don’t know what Harvey would do to you if he caught you with me.”

He stiffened. “Jealous, eh?”

“Wildly!”

“A fire-eater?”

“He’s a perfect devil,” said Nellie, with the straightest face imaginable.

Fairfax smiled in a superior sort of way, flecked the ashes from his cigarette, and leaned back in his chair the better to contemplate the charming creature at his side. He thoroughly approved of jealous husbands. The fellow who isn’t jealous, he argued, is the hardest to trifle with.

“I suppose you adore him,” he said, with a thinly veiled sneer. 46

“‘He’s the idol of me ’art,’” she sang, in gentle mimicry.

“Lucky dog,” he whispered, leering upon her. “And how trustful he is, leaving you here in town to face temptation alone while he hibernates in Tarrytown.”

“He trusts me,” she flashed.

“I am the original ‘trust buster,’” he laughed.

Nellie arose abruptly. She stretched her arms and yawned. The trio opposite gave over disputing about automobiles, and both men looked at their watches.

“Go home,” said Nellie. “I’m tired. We’ve got a rehearsal to-morrow.”

No one took offence. They understood her