“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.