“I wonder,” said Helene, quieting him with a fair hand laid lightly on his sleeve, “whether you all would remain and dine with me this evening—­just as you are I mean;—­and I won’t dress—­”

“I insist proh pudeur,” muttered Sam.  “I can’t countenance any such saturnalia—­”

“Oh, Sam, do be quiet, dear—­” She caught herself up with a blush, and everybody smiled.

“What do we care!” said Sam.  “I’m tired of convention!  If I want to call you darling in public, b’jinks!  I will!  Darling—­darling—­darling—­there!—­”

“Sam!”

“Dearest—­”

“Sam!”

“Ma’am?”

Helene looked at Valerie: 

“There’s no use,” she sighed, “is there?”

“No use,” sighed Valerie, smiling at the man she loved.

THE END