Here was a young man of a species with whom he had not come into contact in many years: a boy who did not know the first thing about poker, or bridge, or pinochle, who played outrageous billiards and who did not know who the latest reigning theatrical beauty was, and moreover, did not care a rap; who could understand a joke within reasonable time if he couldn't tell one; who was neither a nincompoop nor a mollycoddle.

Thomas interested Killigrew more and more as the days went past.
Happily, the voice of conscience is heard by no ears but one's own.
After luncheons Thomas had a good deal of time on his hands; and, to occupy this time he returned to his old love, composition.

He began to rewrite his romance; and one day Kitty discovered him pegging away at it.

He rose from his chair instantly.
"Will you be wanting me, Miss Killigrew ?" "Only to say that father will be detained down-town to-night and that you will be expected to take mother and me to the theater.

It is one of your English musical comedies; and very good, they say." Thomas had been dreading such a situation.