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 I'm in love with this woman, and please tell as many people as you can find to listen."

They went on. "Silly boy," smiled Yvonne tenderly.

Jock looked sober. "Did you get his expression?" he asked. "Surprised, and after that, wistful? It made him feel old and forlorn—the contrast—I'm sorry I did it"

Their parting took place at five-thirty, abruptly. "Do you see that taxicab, Jock Hamill?"

"I do."

"Put me into it and send me home."

Jock stopped dead in his tracks. "Send you home? I'll do nothing of the sort! Why, I thought—aren't you going to have dinner with me? Yvonne! Your last night"

"I'd rather you'd remember me in Central Park," said Yvonne, "than in an atmosphere of clattering china and planked steaks and—flappers." And to this decision she clung obstinately, though Jock tried almost with desperation to dissuade her. He felt cheated. She had tricked him into talking of inconsequential things when he thought he had hours left in which to talk, and he had said nothing of what filled his mind. Also he felt tortured, as though something inside him was dying a little. . ..

"Don't say good-bye," Yvonne commanded from the taxi. "I abominate that word. Just say something very collegiate and foolish—'See you in church,' or something like that"