caught in the rain and your suit had proven to be a shrinking violet."
"Do you realize this is no laughing matter?" he asked angrily. "I can't go to the concert without a suit."
"Obviously not," agreed Dorothy, "or you'd divert the girls' attention from Signor Gigi."
"What am I to do?"
"You can't do anything. You just can't go."
"Why not stay here with me?" suggested Mary Blaine. "I'm lonesome this evening. I'd love to have companionship."
"All right," he agreed quickly, "I will."
"You're not playing your part very well," commented Dorothy. "You ought at least to show a little remorse. I believe the whole thing is a frame-up between you. I don't trust either one of you."
"Nothing of the sort," said Jimmy. "We don't even know each other."
"Well," said Dorothy dryly, "for perfect strangers you seem to be getting on remarkably well."
After she had gone Jimmy turned to Mary Blaine and grinned.
"I'll go upstairs and change from these frightful things," he said, "otherwise I won't be able to sit down. Then we can snuggle down in comfortable chairs and discuss our pet hates."
"I have stacks of them," Mary told him.
"Mine are in eight volumes," he drawled, "bound in half Morocco."
"With illustrations, I hope?"
"Splendid half-tones."
"It's an excellent idea. I always keep mine lying around loose. Some day I'll start being orderly and paste them in a book so none will get lost. By the way shall I order a pot of coffee and some cheese sandwiches? I have very low tastes. In the good old days, I used to enjoy a pint of beer."
"I love cheese," he said jubilantly. "I should have been born a mouse. I can hardly wait to climb into my other clothes. Be sure and order plenty of sandwiches."
"And gallons of coffee," said she.
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