He came again to-night while the performance was on, and sent a note round.
I have brought it for you to see." The note--it was really little more than a message--was written on the back of a programme and enclosed in an envelope evidently borrowed from the box-office.

It read as follows: DEAR MISS LENEVEU, I believe that Mr.Arthur Morrison is a connection of yours, and I am venturing to introduce myself to you as a friend of his.

Could you spare me half-an-hour of your company after the performance of this evening?
If you could honor me so much, you might perhaps allow me to give you some supper.
Sincerely, PHILIP E.MILES.
Laverick felt an absurd pang of jealousy as he handed back the programme.
"I should say," he declared, "that this was simply some young man who was trying to scrape an acquaintance with you because he was or had been a friend of Morrison's." "In that case," answered Zoe, "he is very soon forgotten." She tore the programme into two pieces, and Laverick was conscious of a ridiculous feeling of pleasure at her indifference.
"If you hear anything more about him," he said, "you might let me know.

You are a brave young lady to dismiss your admirers so summarily." "Perhaps I am quite satisfied with one," laughing softly.
Laverick told himself that at his age he was behaving like an idiot, nevertheless his eyes across the table expressed his appreciation of her speech.
"Tell me something about yourself, Mr.Laverick," she begged.
"For instance ?" "First of all, then, how old are you ?" He made a grimace.
"Thirty-eight--thirty-nine my next birthday.

Doesn't that seem grandfatherly to you ?" "You must not be absurd!" she exclaimed.