They say she was an American and it was a bad case; she behaved most unfeelingly." "You shouldn't believe all you hear," I said, "but I don't see what that has to do with it." "Why, he's just in the mood to console himself.

What fellow would think twice of being thrown over, if Miss Portheris were the alternative!" "It depends, Dicky," I observed.

"You are jumping at conclusions." "What I hoped," he went on regretfully as we took our places in the elevator, "was that we might travel together a bit and that you wouldn't mind just now and then taking old Mafferton off our hands, you know." "Dicky," I said, as we swiftly descended, "here is our itinerary.
Genoa, you see, then Pisa, Rome, Naples, Rome again, Florence, Venice, Verona, up through the lakes to Switzerland, and so on.

We leave to-morrow.

If we _should_ meet again, I don't promise to undertake it personally, but I'll see what momma can do." [Illustration: Breakfast with Dicky Dod.].