’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. You're not afraid, Mr. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was.
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