In fact----"
"Well--what?"
Howard laughed. "Don't faint," he said. "I'll leave you at once if you wish
me to, and I'll never give it away that you once knew me. I'm the
editor--the responsible devil for the depravity."
"How interesting!" Mrs. Carnarvon was evidently not disturbed. Then the
American adoration of success came out. "I'm so glad you're getting on. I
always knew you would. Really, you must come to dinner. I'll invite some of
the people you've been attacking. They'll like to look at you, and you will
be amused by them. And I don't in the least mind your giving it to them if
they bait you, as I did this morning. Will you come?"
"If I may leave by ten o'clock. I go down town every night."
"Why, when do you sleep?"
"Not much, these days. Life's too interesting to permit of much sleep. I'll
make up when it slackens a bit."
As he was turning his horse, she said: "Marian's address is Claridge's,
Brooke Street, Mayfair. If she isn't there, they forward her mail."
Howard was puzzled. "What made her give me that address?" he thought. "I
know she didn't like my seeing so much of Marian. And here she is
practically inviting me to write to her." He could not understand it. "If I
were not a 'yellow' editor and if Marian were not engaged to one of the
richest men in New York, I'd say that this lady was encouraging me.
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