I'll ring for a cocktail and send the man down into the restaurant to engage a table." She sank into an easy-chair and looked around her, while Wingate did as he had suggested.

The sitting room, filled with trophies of curiously mixed characteristics--a Chinese idol squatting in one corner, some West African weapons above it, two very fine moose heads over a quaintly shaped fireplace, and a row of choice Japanese prints over the bookcase--was a very masculine but eminently habitable apartment.

Miss Lane looked around her and approved.
"This is quite the nicest flat in the Court," she declared, "and I've been in so many of them.

How did you find time to furnish it like this?
I thought that you'd only just arrived from America." "I come to London often enough to keep this little suite here," he explained.

"I had it even through the war.