"Ah," the other returned with perfect calmness, "that is the danger of doing an unladylike thing. It is so apt to provoke an ungentlemanly return. Men, you know, my dear, haven't the fine instincts that we have. However, I'm sorry that Maurice didn't behave better than you did. Good-night, dear."
Mrs. Staggchase had hardly gone when Parker Stanford came up with a favor.
"I am tired, Mr. Stanford," Berenice said. "Thank you, but you had better ask some one else."
"I'd rather sit it out with you," he answered.
"Nonsense; one doesn't sit out turns in the german."
"They do if they wish."
"Well, instead of sitting it out," she said, rising, "let us go and get a cup of bouillon. I feel the need of something to hold me up."
"Here is your favor," remarked Stanford, as they passed down the hall.
It was an absurd Japanese monster, with eyes goggling out of its head.
"How horrible!" cried Berenice. "It looks exactly like old Christopher Plant when he is talking about his last invention in sauces. Don't you know the way in which he sticks out his eyes, and says: 'It is the greatest misfortune in nature that the nerves of taste do not extend all the way down to the stomach!'"