When Noel woke, the morning after his ultimatum to Connie, he was at once aware that something was to make that day different from other days, but for a moment he couldn't remember what that something was. Then, as the happenings of the previous day came back to him, he said to himself, "Connie and Petrovitch," and sprang out of bed. He dressed quickly—for he had reduced the business of dressing himself with one hand to an exact science—and knocked on Judy's door. He heard her call, "Come in if it's Noel," and obeyed. Judy was standing before her mirror, brushing her brown hair. Her bright red silk dressing gown made a lovely splash of color in the restrained little room.
"What are you up so early for?" she asked. "Something on your conscience, old boy?"
"Not on mine," he assured her. "Mind if I smoke? I bet you often do before breakfast."
"Never. You may though. You've evidently got something to tell me. Even if I am the spin-
