- ing, joyous, triumphant. Has it ever seemed so to you?"
"I do not know. It has always seemed beautiful. It is my favorite."
"And mine. You are not a New Yorker," ventures Don Caesar.
"So? It is now my turn, Don Caesar, to marvel at your guessing powers."
Don Caesar laughs softly. "It does not demand an extraordinary acute discernment. Your accent and manner betoken the New Englander."
"Are we then so provincial that we so easily betray ourselves? But you are right. I am a Vermonter."
"I thought so. Odd, is it not, how dominos conduce to confidences, even among strangers?"
"Yes. And yet I think they would prove unsatisfactory for conversational purposes among people who" Louise pauses.
"People who have been formally introduced, eh?" finishes Don Caesar. "Are you in the city for any length of time?"
"Only until Saturday. We sail for Cuba then."
"Cuba? That is a long way off," muses Don Caesar. "I came very near forgetting that I had not been formally introduced and expressing the regret that I should not see you again before you sail."
"You said a moment ago that the only satisfactory acquaintances were the transitory ones," Louise reminds him.
"True. But that rule has its exceptions, like all others."
"Consistency is no more a man's attribute than a woman's," moralizes Miss Hathaway. "My friends approach, Don Caesar," she adds, as she catches a glimpse of Mr. Felton and Ashley threading their way over the crowded floor.
"That is the signal for my departure, then," says Don Caesar. "Before I go I would crave one small boon."
"I owe you some return for your timely assistance. Speak, Don Caesar."
