what she wore, even though he did not know nearly so much about clothes
as he imagined.

"It's not a toque at all," said she, "but I'll wear it for you
to-morrow, provided you promise me now to run away from that tiresome
secretary and come to lunch."

"Done! At one-thirty o'clock."

"That's the exact luncheon hour, as it happens, but I notice that many
of the best fiancés make it a practice to report for duty at least half
an hour before the gong. It _looks_ so much better."

"Running and eating's no better than eating and running, you allege.
There's some small merit in the contention.... What of those sterling
fiancés who punch the time-clock a full hour before the whistle?"

"Oh, dear me, Hugo, are there any like that?"

"There's but one now in captivity, I believe. I--Hello!... Missed him,
by Jove!"

"What was it? A cat?"

"Didn't you see? Our old hoodoo--that camp-meeting chap!..."

"Oh!"

"I wonder what ill wind he's blowing this time.... Poetic justice if I'd
knocked him into the middle of next week."