The man was a well-known speculator,--cool, yet reckless and pleasure-loving; the woman, good-looking, picturesquely attractive, self-conscious, and self-possessed.

Our propinquity was evidently neither novel nor discomposing.

As she settled her skirts in her place, her bright, dark eyes swept our table with a frank, almost childish, familiarity.

The younger members of the Club quite unconsciously pulled up their collars and settled their neckties; the elders as unconsciously raised their voices slightly, and somewhat arranged their sentences.
Alas! the simplicity and unaffectedness of the Club were again invaded.
Suddenly there was a crash, the breaking of glass, and an exclamation.
Tournelli, no doubt disorganized by the unusual hurry, on his way to our table had dropped his tray, impartially distributed a plate of asparagus over an adjoining table, and, flushed and nervous, yet with an affectation of studied calmness, was pouring the sauce into the young Quartermaster's plate, in spite of his languid protests.

At any other time we would have laughed, but there was something in the exaggerated agitation of the Italian that checked our mirth.