Pity he didn't have an aunty to tell him how." "Louis! How irreverent!" she whispered, eyes sparkling with laughter.
"Shall I try a five-minute fashionable impromptu, dear ?" he asked: "If Dante'd had an Aunty Who ante-dated Dante And scolded him And tolded him The way to win a winner, It's a cinch or I'm a sinner, He'd have taken Trix to dinner, He'd have given her the eye Of the fish about to die, And folded her, And moulded her Like dough within a pie-- sallow, pallid pie-- And cooked a scheme to marry her, And hired a hack to carry her To stately Harlem-by-the-Bronx, Where now the lonely taxi honks--" "Kelly!" she gasped.
They both were laughing so that they hastened their steps, fearful of offending, and barely contrived to compose their features when making their adieux to Mrs.Hind-Willet and the Countess d'Enver.
As they walked east along Fifty-ninth Street, breathing in the fresh, sparkling evening air, she said impulsively: "And to think, Louis, that if I had been wicked enough to marry you I'd have driven you into that kind of society--or into something genetically similar!" His face sobered: "You could hold your own in any society." "Perhaps I could.

But they wouldn't let me." "Are you afraid to fight it out ?" "Yes, dear--at _your_ expense.

Otherwise--" She gazed smilingly into space, a slight colour in either cheek..