The Playful Kitten business, you know--frisks apropos of nothing to frisk about.

But we all fancied you'd stay for the dance." He yawned mightily, and gazed at Selwyn with ruddy gravity.
"Whisk ?" he inquired.
"No." "Cigar ?"--mildly urgent.
"No, thanks." "Bed ?" "I think so.

But don't wait for me, Austin.

.

.