_She._ Shall I, oh shall I, have a chance this season?
_He._ A stiffish total! Will there be a breeze on?
_She._ Quite pale! Shall I put on the _tiniest_ touch?
_He._ Most brilliant! Wonder if she rouges much?
_She._ Not a bad figure! Has he any tin?
_He._ Backed "Slowboy" for a pot! D'ye think he'll win?
_She._ Long dress bill! Shall I get into hot water?
_He._ Can I stave off old Snip another quarter?
[Illustration: _Hostess._ "Don't you sing, Mr. Binks?"
_Binks._ "No--er--I--hum--er----"
_Hostess._ "Oh, I'm afraid you wouldn't be heard in this large room.
Thanks, so much!"
[_Terrible disappointment of Binks, who was simply dying to recite
"Tam o' Shanter."_
]