CHAPTER XVIII.
"Phyllis," said I, "do you remember the day we first met ?" We were in the morning room of the Wentworth mansion at B----.
Phyllis, Pembroke and I sat before the warm grate, while Mrs.Wentworth and Ethel stood by one of the windows, comparing some shades of ribbon.
My presence at B---- was due to a wire I had sent to New York, which informed headquarters that I was on the track of a great sensation.
The return wire had said, "Keep on it." "When first we met ?" echoed Phyllis.

"Why, it was at Block Island." "Oh," said I, "I do not refer to the time when you had shouldered the responsibilities of a society bud.

I mean the time when the introduction was most informal.

You were at the time selling lemonade without license and with very little lemon." "Selling lemonade ?" cried Pembroke.
"Never mind him, Mr.Pembroke," laughed Phyllis.
"It was a long time ago," I went on.

"I was a new reporter.