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 "She's what I ' d call a one-hundred percenter for all-round looks," Tinker said warmly. "Let's stop and talk to her."

"What!" the playwright exclaimed. He was horrified, perceiving that she must have heard this genial proposal, since they were within a dozen feet of her and she had looked up to observe them. "No! Don't think of such a thing."

But Tinker had already grasped his arm, turning him toward the recumbent lady's chair, "You're lookin' like the first rose o' summer to-day," he said gallantly and without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment. "I feel like the last one myself. I want you to meet a young New York lawyer; his name's Mr. Ogle. Mr. Ogle, this is Mrs. Mummero."