ass in London who is conscious of his ears. Aren't you, Richard?"
"You speak as if you were really fond of the species," she smiled.
"I suppose I am," admitted Drewitt. "I always have to stop and rub the muzzle of a donkey whenever I see one."
A moment later she turned to Beresford and murmured,
"I think it must run in the family; don't you remember the other day you wanted to rub my muzzle?"
"Rub your muzzle!" he repeated, as if not quite sure that he had heard correctly.
"Yes," she laughed. "When I said I was glad I was not a cow."
Before Beresford had time to reply they were drawn once more into the general conversation.
"We'll take coffee in the ginter-warden," cried Mrs. Crisp. "So pleasant. I love music. You must come and talk to me, Mr. Berry. I've seen nothing of you. Now, Mr. Quelch."
Once in the winter-garden, Mrs. Crisp seemed to forget her desire to converse with Beresford, who sat watching the others talk. Lola made several ineffectual efforts to draw him into the conversation; but Mrs. Crisp continued to ignore him, devoting herself to Drewitt and Mr. Quelch.
A sudden hush in the talk seemed to remind her of Beresford's presence. She moved over to where he sat.
