At last he hurriedly relinquished her to the man-servant who had answered her summons, then ran down the steps and drove to his hotel.
Mounting to his rooms, he lit every burner in his parlor, and then surveyed himself in the mirror.
"Where did she find it, old boy?
Eh?
Where did she find it?
Was it the figure?
Was it the face?
Hang the swallow tails! Must you, sir, come to such a humiliation?
How are the mighty fallen! The lion of Sevenoaks in the skin of an ass! But it must be.

Ah! Mrs.Belcher--Mrs.Belcher--Mrs.
Belcher! You are good, but you are lumpy.

You were pretty once, but you are no Mrs.Dillingham.By the gods! Wouldn't she swim around my house like a queen! Far in azure depths of space, I behold a star! Its light shines for me.

It doesn't?
It must not?
Who says that?
Did you address that remark to me, sir?
By the way, how do you think you got along?
Did you make a fool of yourself, or did you make a fool of somebody?
Honors are easy.

Let Robert Belcher alone! Is Toll making money a little too fast?
What do you think?
Perhaps you will settle that question by and by.