It was she who sent you our request, was it not?
She _will_ so regret being absent to-day." "She did not send me a request, Mrs.Manners," persisted St.George pleasantly, "but I've been uncommonly glad to do what I could.

I am here simply on a mission for the _Evening Sentinel_." Mrs.Manners drew something indefinite from her bag and put it back again, and looked vaguely at St.George.
"Your voice reminds me so much of my brother, younger," she observed, her eyes already straying to the literature for distribution.
With soft exclamatory twitters the Readers' Guild thanked St.
George, and Miss Bella Bliss Utter, who was of womankind who clasp their hands when they praise, stood thus beside him until he took his leave.

The woman in the red waist summoned an attendant to show him back down the long corridor.
At the grated door within the entrance St.George found the warden in stormy conference with a pale blond youth in spectacles.
"Impossible," the warden was saying bluntly, "I know you.

I know your voice.

You called me up this morning from the _New York Sentinel_ office, and I told you then--" "But, my dear sir," expostulated the pale blond youth, waving a music roll, "I do assure you--" "What he says is quite true, Warden," St.George interposed courteously, "I will vouch for him.