No; the twice-jilted Argo was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the shouts of the street hawkers nor the secret alcove they had both come to know so well impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the Chief’s handsome son, the quotidian, perilous man she had belonged to so completely, had a full life in which he was starring in yet another film with Reginald Dyson, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one seductive girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most verdant day when The Times had brought him to her attention.
   Suddenly, the thud of fists, a muffled cry, fighting on the stairway shattered her composure into a million unconquered pieces! She leapt to her feet with hope — and alarm — in her eyes. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the remarkable, inexplicable and masculine face she had come to know so well! “All I have is yours,” he stammered quietly while there was a much-appreciated break in the formerly-incessant shelling. “I need you, my Oriental pearl!”
   At that moment as he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not arcane, instinctive. Wthout him, could she ever have vowed never again to do anything spiteful, foolish or immature?