"
"From your host's point of view, or yours?"
"From both! Besides, one's digestion suffers."
"You are certainly getting old," she declared. "Come, I must go.
You haven't been a bit nice to me. When shall I see you again?"
"It is," he answered, "for you to say."
She looked at him for a moment thoughtfully.
"Supposing," she said, "that I cried off the yacht race to-day.
Would you take me out to lunch?"
He smiled.
"My dear lady," he said, "it is for Circe to command--and for me
to obey."
"And you'll come and have tea with me afterwards at the Waldorf?"
"That," Mr. Sabin declared, "will add still further to my happiness."
"Will you call for me, then--and where shall we have lunch, and at
what time? I must go and develop a headache at once, or that
tiresome Dalkeith boy will be pounding at my door."
"I will call for you at the Waldorf at half-past one," Mr. Sabin
said. "Unless you have any choice, I will take you to a little
place downtown where we can imagine ourselves back on the Continent,
and where we shall be spared the horror of green corn."
"Delightful," she murmured, buttoning her glove. "Then you shall
take me for a drive to Fifth Avenue, or to see somebody's tomb,
and my woman shall make some real Russian tea for us in my
sitting-room. Really, I think I'm doing very well for the first
day.
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