d'hôtel, and escorted to a remote table in a sort of annex of the room. Philip pushed the menu away.
"Two cocktails—the quickest you ever mixed in your life," he ordered. "Quicker than that, mind."
The man was back again almost at once with two frosted glasses upon a tray. They laughed together almost like children as they set them down empty.
"I know what I want, and you, too, by the look of you," he continued—"a beefsteak, with some more of that green corn you gave me the other day, and fried potatoes, and Burgundy. We'll have some oysters first while we wait."
She sighed.
"I don't mean to come here with you again," she said, a little impatiently. "I don't know why I give in to you. You're not strong, you know. You are a weak man. Women will always look after you; they'll always help you in trouble—I suppose they'll always care for you. Can't think why I do what you want me to. Guess I was near starving."
He laughed.
"You don't know much about me yet," he reminded her.
"You don't know much about yourself," she retorted glibly. "Why, according to your own confession, you only started life a few weeks ago. I fancy what went before didn't count for much. You've been fretted and tied up somewhere. You haven't had the chance of getting big like so many
