"He is in Paris-at the races--with her!" "If they tell you that sort of thing," protested Philip indignantly, "you must listen to me.

He is not in Paris.

He is not with her.

There never was a her!" He drew aside the lace curtains and pointed.

"He is there--behind that ancient cab horse, praying that you will let him tell you that not only did he never do it; but, what is much more important, he will never do it again." The lady herself now timidly drew the curtains apart, and then more boldly showed herself upon the iron balcony.