I.--In Forma Pauperis
II.--Corpus Delicti
III.--Sub Judice
IV.--In Loco Parentis
V.--De Motu Proprio
VI.--Pacta Conventa
VII.--Flos Veneris
VIII.--Mille Modi Veneris
IX.--Non Sequitur
X.--Compos Mentis
XI.--Quod Erat Faciendum
XII.--Nunc Aut Nunquam
XIII.--Cui Malo
XIV.--Desunt Caetera
*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*
"Watching the city lights--watching, listening, always listening" . . .
Frontispiece
"A dainty, unreal shape, exquisite as a tinted phantom stealing through
a fairy tale of Old Japan"
"'We *had* to spend all our money on clothes'"
"'My uncle's port and sherry,' he said"
"'Is it because we are merely attractive that you mentioned the
relationship?'"
"'As far as I am concerned, the matter is settled'"
"'I wonder just how innocent we really are?' she said"
"Mr. Rivett took in Diana, his son Silvette"
"'Wouldn't it be odd if Jim married that girl?'"
"Presently she caught his eye and made him a pretty gesture"
"'Diana!' she exclaimed softly"
"Glancing up, she beheld Jack Rivett"
"She looked around, pen poised"
"The colonel puffed his cigar in smiling silence"
"'I want to gossip with you,' he said abruptly"
"'Oh, dear,' she said, 'there's somebody down there already'"
"Dineen slowly revolved his thumbs and squinted at a sunbeam"
"'Your loyalty to honor deceived a very gentle heart,' he said"
"That night at dinner she was very gay--a charming, sparkling,
bewildering creature"
"'So *this* is your apartment?' he said"
"'Health, happiness, prosperity to them'"
*JAPONETTE*
*CHAPTER I*
*IN FORMA PAUPERIS*
The failure of the old-time firm of Edgerton, Tennant & Co. was unusual
only because it was an honest one--the bewildered creditors receiving a
hundred cents on a dollar from property not legally involved.
Edgerton had been dead for several years; the failure of the firm
presently killed old Tennant, who was not only old in years, but also
old in fashion--so obsolete, in fact, were the fashions he clung to that
he had used his last cent in a matter which he regarded as involving his
personal honor.
The ethically laudable but materially ruinous integrity of old Henry
Tennant had made matters rather awkward for his orphaned nieces.
Similar traditions in the Edgerton family--of which there now remained
only a single representative, James Edgerton 3d--devastated that young
man's inheritance so completely that he came back to the United States,
via Boston, on a cattle steamer and arrived in New York the following
day with two dollars in loose silver and a confused determination to see
the affair through without borrowing.
He walked from the station to the nearest of his clubs. It was very
early, and the few club servants on duty gazed at him with friendly and
respectful sympathy.
In the visitors' room he sat down, wrote out his resignation, drew up
similar valedictories to seven other expensive and fashionable clubs,
and then picked up his two suit cases again, declining with a smile the
offered assistance from Read, the doorman who had been in service there
as long as the club had existed.
"Mr. Edgerton," murmured the old man, "Mr. Inwood is in the Long Room,
sir."
Edgerton thought a moment, then walked to the doorway of the Long Room
and looked in. At the same time Inwood glanced up from his newspaper.
"Hello!" he exclaimed; "is that you, Edgerton?"
"Who the devil do you think it is?" replied Edgerton amiably.
They shook hands. Inwood said:
"What's the trouble--a grouch, a hangover, or a lady?"
Edgerton laughed, placed his suit cases on the floor, and seated himself
in a corner of the club window for the first time in six months--and for
the last time in many, many months to come.
"It's hot in town," he observed. "How are you, Billy?"
"Blooming. Accept from me a long, cold one with a permanent fizz to it.
Yes? No? A Riding Club cocktail, then? What? Nix for the
rose-wreathed bowl?"