"You see what you’ve done, Mr. Cayley," said Fancy. "I’ve just been jilted for the first time in my life, and it was all your fault. I’m afraid I shall have to butt in and ask you to protect me!" It was not Fancy but Clytie who had, apparently, most surprised him. He gave a questioning look at her as he replied, not a little confused: "Won’t you sit down here in my place? There’s plenty of room. I’ll get another chair—or," he stole another glance at Clytie, "I’ll let you have half of mine!" "I accept!" said Fancy Gray. Clytie smiled encouragingly. "I’ll divide mine with you, too, if you like." "You’re a gentleman! I’d much rather sit with you, Miss Payson; thank you!" Then she looked at Clytie fondly. "I _thought_ I was right about you! You _are_ a thoroughbred, aren’t you?" "We’re educating Mr. Cayley, my dear." Clytie gave him a bright smile. "He has a few things yet to learn about women." "I plead guilty," said Cayley, watching the two with curiosity. "Miss Gray and I are disciples of the same school. She gave me the password." Clytie was fairly superb—she even outshone Fancy—she was regal. Fancy laughed. "You’re the only one who knows it, that _I_ ever met, though." "Ah," said Clytie, "then that’s the only way I can beat you—I believe many women are initiated." Fancy clapped her hands softly in pantomime. Then she turned to Mrs. Maxwell and the others. "I hope I’m not out of the frying-pan into the fire," she said. "Please let me down easy, ladies. If you don’t make me feel at home pretty quick, I’ll be up against it I You don’t really have to _know_ me, you know. Only it looked to me like when he had three such pretty women to take care of one more ought to be easy enough." "We _were_ three pretty women before, perhaps, my dear, but now I’m afraid we’re only one!" said Clytie. She herself, kindled with the spirit of adventure, and so adequately welcoming it, was irresistible. Fancy blew a pretty kiss at her. "No man would know enough to say anything as nice as that, would he? But I’m afraid I can’t trot in your class, Miss Payson. Why, every man in the room has been watching you all the evening. I really ought to sit beside Mrs. Maxwell, though, to show her off. It takes these brunettes to make me look outclassed, doesn’t it? I used to be a brunette myself, but I reformed. Mr. Cayley, you may hold me on, if you like. And remember, when I kick you under the table it’s a hint for you to say something about my hands." She laid them on the table-cloth ingenuously. Clytie took one up and showed it to Mrs. Maxwell. "Did you ever see a prettier wrist than that?" she said. "It’s charming! I’m afraid she’d never be able to wear _my_ gloves." Fancy smiled good-temperedly. "That second finger is supposed to be perfect," she said, looking at it reflectively. "It’s queer that the fourth one hasn’t a diamond on it," Mrs. Maxwell suggested amiably.