we shall have a great deal less of the Offenbach tinkle-tankle."
"The serenade, if you like, then," said he, with, careless good-humor; what did it matter to him?
"And whom shall I get to play an accompaniment for you?"
"Oh, you needn't trouble; I can do that for myself--"
"But you must make one young lady supremely happy," said she, with insidious flattery.
He glanced round the studio.
"I see Miss Lestrange over there--she has played it for me before--without the music, I mean."
"Then I'll go and fetch her," said the indefatigable hostess; and now everybody seemed to know that Mr. Lionel Moore was about to sing "The Starry Night."
Miss Georgie Lestrange was no sooner appealed to than she came through the crowd, smiling and laughing. She was an exceedingly pretty lass, with fresh-complexioned cheeks, a pert and attractive nose, a winsome mouth, and merry blue eyes that were hardly made grave by the pince-nez that she habitually wore. She was ve