"What was the number?" she asked as he approached. "Did you notice? I did—but then thought of something else; and now I've forgotten."
"Two hundred and thirty," replied P. Sybarite absently.
Between the two there fell a little pause of constrained silence ended by Marian.
"I want to see you again, very soon, Mr. Sybarite."
The eyes of the little man were as grateful as a dog's.
"If I may call—?" he ventured diffidently.
"Could you come to-morrow to tea?"
"At the Plaza?"
"At the Plaza!" she affirmed with a bright nod.
"Thank you."