"Mr. Taylor," announced the maid, appearing suddenly between the portieres at this critical moment.[100]

[100]

"Oh, mercy!" cried the widow, "and my hair is just——"

"Am I intruding?" asked a fresh-faced young man, entering briskly between the portieres.

"Not at all, Bobby," said the widow sweetly, holding out one hand and feeling her back hair with the other. "You arrived just at the—psychological moment. We have been talking about you for the last half hour."

[101]

[101]

VIII

After Love——(?)

After Love

The bachelor withdrew his eyes from the pretty pair of ankles across the street and glanced down at the widow with the lenient smile of superior wisdom.

"Why is it," he retorted, "that the man who drinks the most champagne at dinner has the worst headache next morning?"

"That isn't any explanation at all,[102] Mr. Travers." The widow's chatelaine jingled impatiently. "Champagne is intoxicating."

[102]

"So is love."

"Champagne leaves you with an—an all-gone feeling."

"And love leaves you with—'that tired feeling'."

"Not me," said the widow promptly, "I always feel exhilarated after—after——"

"Afterwards," finished the bachelor helpfully. "But you're a woman. It's the man who has the 'tired feeling'."

"What is it like?" persisted the widow.

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