“Much obliged.  I am engaged for the evening.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.  Your wife told me you were a friendless stranger in a foreign land, so I lost no time in coming to look you up.”

“Very kind of you.”

“I had a charming weekend in the country.  We missed you very much.”

“Indeed?”

“You’re a lucky chap, Jocelyn.  Your wife is one of the most enchanting women I ever met.  She is unique.”

“I am glad she pleases you.”

“My dear fellow, I hope I haven’t annoyed you.  I meant no disrespect in complimenting you on Mrs. Jocelyn’s charm.”

“You made your admiration a trifle conspicuous the last time I saw you,” said Jarvis in a rage.

“I apologize, I assure you.  I bid you good night.”

“Unmannerly boor,” was Strong’s comment as he turned toward the avenue.

“Hope that settles Mr. Richard Strong,” fumed Jarvis as he turned away from the avenue.

Two letters were written Bambi that night concerning this meeting.  Mr. Strong wrote: 

“DEAR LADY:  I cannot possibly tell you how much of the fragrance of the garden, and of you, stays with me even in the heat and ugliness of New York.  I am so grateful to you and the Professor for your hospitality and your friendship.

“I went to see your Jarvis to-night, as I promised to do, but he made it exceedingly plain to me that he desired neither my visit nor my acquaintance.  I thought he looked very tired and a trifle hectic.  No doubt the heat has worn on him.  I don’t mean to alarm you.  I am only searching for some excuse for my own comfort for his reception of me.

“I shall look for the next chapters with eagerness.  None of your many readers knows my proprietary delight in that tale of yours.

“My cordial regards to your father, and to yourself my thanks and my best wishes.  Faithfully,

“RICHARD STRONG.”

Jarvis was not so politic.  He permitted himself some rancor.

“DEAR BAMBINA:  I did not get your letter announcing Strong’s visit, and his approaching descent upon me, until this evening.  He followed close upon its heels.  I have no doubt you intended it kindly sending him here to look me up, but the truth is I am in no mood for callers, and I fear I made that rather plain to your friend.  I may as well say, frankly, I disliked him exceedingly on the occasion of his visit to you.  It would be useless for me to try to disguise the fact.  I would never dream of asking him for work on his magazine, which I consider of a very low grade.

“By some misunderstanding the Parkes sailed sooner than they expected, and failed to see my play.  I have offered it to Charles Frohman.  I should prefer him to any other New York manager.

“The weather here is extremely hot, and I have been working rather hard, so I am a little knocked out.  Will you send me the manuscript of my two unfinished plays you will find on the table in my study?  With regards to the Professor and yourself.  Hastily,