"I don't know."
"Don't know? How unkind—when it all depends on you. You will look me up in New York, won't you? New York is not so romantic—but I shall try to make it up to you. I shall sing for you. Just a Little."
She stood up, and held out a slim white hand.
"Good-by, Mr. Minot." Still she laughed. "It has been so good to know you."
"Er—good-by," said Minot. He took the hand. He heard her humming beneath her breath—humming Just a Little. "I've enjoyed your singing immensely."
She laughed outright now—a silvery joyous laugh. And, refusing the baffled Minot's offer to take her back to the hotel, she fled away from him down the dark path.
He fell back into his chair, and lighted another cigar. Exit the Gaiety lady, laughing merrily. What was the meaning of that? What new complication must he meet and solve?
For his answer, he had only to return to the hotel. On the steps he was met by Lord Harrowby's man, agitated, puffing.
