He had pinned to the table a small butterfly, yellow, with tiny dots on the wings.
He was critically inspecting his find through a jeweler's glass.
"I am visiting friends here," began Fitzgerald.

"Rear Admiral Killigrew was an old friend of my father's.

I did not expect to remain, but the admiral and his daughter insisted; so I am sending to New York for my luggage, and will go up this morning." He saw no reason for giving fuller details.
"So it must have been you who brought the admiral's note.

It is fate.
Thanks.

Some day that casual dinner may give you good interest" The little man with the butterfly bent lower over his prize.
"Do you believe in curses ?" asked Breitmann.
"Ordinary, every-day curses, yes; but not in Roman anathemas." "Neither of those.