But wouldn't it astonish you if you heard a low, timid knocking some day when you and your Bohemian friends were carousing and having a riotous time there----" "Yes, it would, but I'm afraid that low, timid knocking couldn't be heard in the infernal uproar of our usual revelry." "Then I'd knock louder and louder, and perhaps kick once or twice if you didn't come to the door and let me in." He laughed.

After a moment she laughed, too; her dark eyes were very friendly now.

Watching the amusement in his face, she continued to sip from his tall, frosted glass, quite unconscious of any distaste for it.
On the contrary, she experienced a slight exhilaration which was gradually becoming delightful to her.
"Scotch-and-soda is rather nice, after all," she observed.

"I had no idea--_What_ is the matter with you, Duane ?" "You haven't swallowed all that, have you ?" "Yes, is it much ?" He stared, then with a shrug: "You'd better cut out that sort of thing." "What ?" she asked, surprised.
"What you're doing." "Tasting your Scotch?
Pooh!" she said, "it isn't strong.

Do you think I'm a baby ?" "Go ahead," he said, "it's your funeral." Legs crossed, chin resting on the butt of his riding-crop, he lay back in his chair watching her.
Women of her particular type had always fascinated him; Fifth Avenue is thronged with them in sunny winter mornings--tall, slender, faultlessly gowned girls, free-limbed, narrow of wrist and foot; cleanly built, engaging, fearless-eyed; and Geraldine was one of a type characteristic of that city and of the sunny Avenue where there pass more beautiful women on a December morning than one can see abroad in half a dozen years' residence.
How on earth this hemisphere has managed to evolve them out of its original material nobody can explain.