But Mrs. Tinker leaned over the parapet. "Where did you think you saw your father, Libby?"
"Nowhere. Look at that"
Mrs. Tinker uttered a sharp exclamation. "It is your father!" she said, and pointed downward to the left. "Certainly it's he. Who in the world is that he's got with him?"
Tinker, beautifully unconscious of the splendid view of him afforded by the roof of the hotel, was sauntering through the street of the dancing girls with Mme. Momoro.
