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 him? I've forgotten how to behave with chauffeurs you call Martindale; I've gotten used to the kind you call Charlie—really I'm used to the kind you call Joe and Evelyn. Oh, he's gliding scornfully away—what a relief! Look at the place we live in, Ralph! Crazy? Mr. Harrison tried hard to get me to live somewhere else, didn't you? I don't mean he's invited me to elope—you've been very slow about that, Mr. Harrison. Here's my beautiful baby. Say, 'How do you do, Mr. Levinson?', darling."

"How do, Mittah Lev's on darling?" inquired Hope, fizzing with laughter.

"Mrs. Green—h'm—h'm—Mrs. Green. Joe didn't tell me it was going to be a dinner party, or I would have worn my Tuck."

"It isn't a dinner party, and you're dazzling compared to Joe. Listen!"

"They could hear ice in a cocktail shaker. That's Joe, making that noise—and he does it all with his hind legs! Joe! Oh, Ralph, I really am excited, though I'm hiding it so well!"

"Thank you, I don't indulge," said Hartley, as Joe passed around a tinkling tray of frosty amber glasses. "No, I don't smoke, sir, but don't let me stop you."

The orange curtains were drawn; firelight and shaded lamplight threw quivering fragile shadows of cherry branches on wall and ceiling. "New dwess!" cried Hope to Ralph, lifting the brief lemon-yellow frock Kate had made, so high that Evelyn caught her