As she turned away, a tall, fine-looking, well set-up, dark-haired, clean-cut, young chap, who had just rounded the news-stand, grabbed off his hat and greeted her with the glad smile of an old acquaintance.

“Why, how do you do, Mrs. Cuthbert!” he exclaimed.  “This is an unexpected pleasure, and most opportune.”

There was a slight stress on the last two words:—­the words of recognition.

“Delightful, Mr. Davidson!” she returned—­which continued the recognition—­taking his extended hand and holding it.

“Can’t I see you to your car, or carriage, or whatever you’re using?” he asked.

“You may call a taxi,” she replied; “and you may also come with me, if you’ve nothing else to do.”

“I’m too sorry.  There has been a—­mixup, and it is impossible now, Mrs. Cuthbert. I have an important appointment at the Capitol.” Which completed the recognition.

“When can you come to see me?” she asked.  “I’m at the Chateau.”

“I hope tomorrow, if I’m not suddenly tied up.  You will be disengaged?”

“I’ve absolutely nothing on hand for tomorrow,” she replied.

“Fine!” he returned.  “I think I can manage to come about one and take you out for luncheon.”

“That will be charming!” she smiled.

“Where would you like to go—­to the Rataplan?”

“Wherever you suggest,” she replied.  “I’ll leave it to you where we shall go and what we shall have.”

“You’re always considerate and kind,” he averred.  “If nothing untoward occurs, it will be a fine chance to talk over old times, to explain everything, and to arrange for the future.”

“That will be charming!”

“And unless I am disappointed in a certain matter, I shall have a surprise for you.”

“I shall welcome the surprise.”

“We both shall welcome it, I think!” he laughed.  “It seems a long time since I’ve seen you, Madeline,” he added.

“It seems a long time to me, too, Billy.  We must do better now, old friend.  Come to Paris and we’ll make such a celebration of it that the Boulevards will run with—­gaiety.”

“I shall come.  Meanwhile—­tomorrow.”  He raised his stick to the taxi dispatcher.  “I’m sorry to leave you,” he confided to her.

“Let me take you as far as the Capitol,” she urged.

“Not today.  Wait until I come to Paris—­then you may take me where you will and how.”

“I like you, Billy!” she exclaimed.

“And I’ve something more to tell you,” he whispered, as he put her in and closed the door.  “The Chateau!” he said to the driver then stepping back, he doffed his hat and waved his hand.

“Yes, I like you, Mr. Davidson,” she smiled, as the taxi sped away, “but I’ll like you better when the present business is completed and I’m in Paris—­without you.”