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 tall men, and pug-nosed short men; there were thin men with aquiline noses and fat men with almost no noses at all; and there was one very aristocratic person whose appearance tallied with the description exactly—only he was the royal chamberlain of King Gustaf of Sweden.

As they wended their way among the passengers, Lily, as usual, drew the glances of everybody after her. To-day she looked younger than ever and as owing to the warmth, she had discarded her polo coat, the extraordinary beauty of the lines of her waist and hips were plainly visible to the admiring eyes of all the passengers—only to be truthful and to give her full credit she had no hips—to speak of. And yet she ate everything she wanted, never took any exercise, and did not “roll” each morning before breakfast!

Lily Trevelyan was an assiduous frequenter or “Jenny’s” department at her club on Madison Avenue, where that most expert of all masseuses gave her daily attention, and she occasionally walked around the Reservoir in the Park—with some friend of the opposite sex. That was the extent of her regimen. Otherwise she took no thought for her health