” “Why not?” She turned on him. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. I'll cable to-night, and in a few days we'll have some news. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve found her!’ ‘Ah, Gérard,’ uttered the girl in a gratified tone as Major Alderley walked through into the light. Good night. " "That sounds funny … to play it with your feet!" McClintock laughed.
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