MRS. WINDERMERE
is going to go out there's something rather desperate about my following it, isn't there? Wouldn't it be———"
"The Light," interrupted Mrs. Windermere, "is yours to guard."
"But wouldn't it be———"
Mrs. Windermere bowed her head and drew her furs together.
"Such a child," she sighed.
"I think I'll have an éclair too," said Esmée timidly. "Won't you have another one to keep me company?"
"I?" started Mrs. Windermere. "I? Eclair? What? Oh well, if it's going to make you shy, my watching."
Esmée ordered two more éclairs. "What," she inquired, "are your plans? Did you think of going back to Italy?"
"With the swallows—not before the swallows. I must smother down the panting and the tugging, because my friends can't let me go. They just rise up and say I mustn't. Commands, of course, are nothing, but entreaties! Did I tell you in Italy what some people call me?" She laughed deprecatingly and watched the waitress threading her way
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