"Here he comes now," said Medora.
Clytie turned. She beheld the mediaeval greens and violets. "Why, Adrian," she protested; "you told me you were coming disguised as a gentleman."
"I thought better of it," said Bond.
"But," she proceeded, "I—I——" She spun round on one heel. "This is all for you. I thought that if you were coming disguised as a gentleman, it would be nice for me to come disguised as a lady. No use," she said regretfully. "Everybody knew me in a minute," she added.
Bond laughed. "I thought you weren't coming at all."
"But you got my note?"
"Not a word."
"Why, I wrote you how we were having a ball of our own, and how I couldn't come to this one till I had started off that one."
"What kind of a ball?" asked Mrs. Pence.
"One given by our Telephone Girls. I led the grand march with a lovely young bartender. I struck him all in a heap—can you wonder?—and he told me just what he thought of me. There wasn't much time to lead up to it. He was very direct; he took a short cut. Oh, I love the people! Why are the men in our set so shy——!"