"I am looking for my fan, Mr. Grahame," said Florence, stopping. "Don't you want to help me search for it?"
"Of course I do, and I'll wager I find it," said Duncan, walking directly toward the nook just described.
"You need not express your disapproval of me so pointedly," called Florence, protestingly. "I assure you it is not in here," she continued, following him until they were both concealed by the palms.
"A thousand pardons for my blunder," replied Duncan. "I thought I saw you coming out of here after one of the dances with Dr. Maccanfrae."
"I see I must confess my guilt," answered Florence, smiling; "but I relied on the protection of his grey hairs."
"I gather you don't approve of this corner," replied Duncan. "At least," he continued, looking around, "you were not so indiscreet as to leave your fan here."
"I suppose the place has its uses," she answered laughingly, "at least the managers think so, if one is to judge by the care bestowed on its arrangement."
"If I were bold," Duncan said, as they passed out, "I would say that it is like a fire escape, only to be used on pressing occasions."
Florence frowned at this atrocious punning, and he added, meekly: "May I have permission to admire your gown?"
"I am surprised that you like it," she replied. "This is its second season."