treasure of a Lucille was to be married—and would I ask that a taxicab be called? Such a used-to-it, matter-of-course little manner she had about everything! It wouldn't be much pleasure to me to drop into a jeweler's on the way home some night and buy her a little diamond pendant for her birthday. She can't keep track of the ones she has already. My precious little fortune, my devotion, would simply be a handful more of feathers in her already soft-enough couch. No, I don't think Elsie Larrabee appeals to me, Mother. I want to count more with a woman. I like this note from its gingery start through to the big, prosperous husband at the end. Too bad I haven't more of a clew for discovering the young creature who scratched it off. She's lost to me as completely as if I'd never seen her. By the time I'd got into the corridor of the hotel, she had disappeared. I was just curious enough to see if her umbrella was still out in the gutter. I went out and picked it up—a cheap little cotton thing. I thought her address might be in it, but it wasn't! All I know about the girl is, she carries a small brown mink muff and a basket of kumquats. Sherlock Holmes couldn't find her on that."
That same evening in Bee's old ball gown, with a scarf draped around her shoulders to conceal the
