"So'm I. I want to see your mother." He rose ponderously. "If she's not playing bridge again!" "Well, look him over," retorted Pat. "And I think your knowledge of love is a decided flop. I think you're woefully ignorant on the subject." "Why's that?" "If you'd known anything about it, you could have married mother some time during the last seventeen years. Lord knows you've tried, and all you've attained is the state of _in loco parentis_ instead of _parens_." 3 Psychiatrics of Genius "How do you charge--by the hour?" asked Pat, as Doctor Horker returned from the hall. The sound of her mother's departing footsteps pattered on the porch. "Of course, Young One; like a plumber." "Then your rates per minute must be colossal! The only time you ever see Mother is a moment or so between bridge games." "I add on the time I waste with you, my dear. Such as now, waiting to look over that odd swain of yours. Didn't you say he'd be over this evening?" "Yes, but it's not worth your rates to have him psychoanalyzed. I can do as well myself." "All right, Pat. I'll give you a sample analysis free," chuckled the Doctor, distributing his bulk comfortably on the davenport. "I don't like free trials," she retorted. "I sent for a beauty-culture book once, on free trial. I was twelve years only, and returned it in seven days, but I'm still getting sales letters in the mails. I must be on every sucker list in the country." "So that's the secret of your charm." "What is?" "You must have read the book, I mean. If you remember the title, I might try it myself. Think it'd help?" "Dr. Carl," laughed the girl, "you don't need a book on beauty culture--you need one on bridge! It's that atrocious game you play that's bothering Mother." "Indeed? I shouldn't be surprised if you were right; I've suspected that." "Save your surprise for when I'm wrong, Doc. You'll suffer much less from shock." "Confident little brat! You're apt to get that knocked out of you some day, though I hope you never do." "I can take it," grinned Pat. "No doubt you can, but you're an adept at handing it out. Where's this chap of yours?" "He'll be along. No one's ever stood me up on a date yet." "I can understand that, you imp! Is that the famous Nick?" he queried as a car purred to a stop beyond the windows. "No one else!" said the girl, glancing out. "The Big Thrill in person." She darted to the door. Horker turned casually to watch her as she opened it, surveying Nicholas Devine with professional nonchalance. He entered, tall, slender, with his thin sensitive features sharply outlined in the light of the hall. He cast a quick glance toward the Doctor; the latter noted the curious amber-green eyes of the lad, set wide in the lean face, deep, speculative, the eyes of a dreamer.