"By which Mazie means to say, Cato, that we trembled for fear you were Hutchins Burley." "Do you expect him?" asked Robert, turning to Cornelia. "Burley’s going to take me to supper." "That man foils me at every turn," said Robert with mock gravity. "I wanted to take you to supper myself. Cornelia, you have no intuition whatever." "Well, how do you do!" Cornelia had a whimsical way of using this salutation as a mild rebuke. Mazie, who was perched on the quondam tubs so that Claude could get the full benefit of a very shapely pair of legs, made a grimace at Robert Lloyd. "If that isn’t the third invite this evening! Cornelia, you’re a perfect pig. Rob, pale face never won fair lady." "Mazie, your ignorance of human nature is appalling," said Robert. "What you really ought to say is that pale faces never count their chickens till they’re hatched." "Is that so, Mr. Cleverdick? Well, listen to me. Cornelia likes her men in three dimensions, not in two. That’s why she’s going out with Hutch." "Well, if Rob is two dimensions," said Claude, "Hutch is eight or ten." Robert joined in the general laughter; Mazie’s manner was really very friendly to him, although the banter sounded spiteful. Cornelia now insisted that they were all to join her and Burley at supper; and Robert, under pressure, consented to make a fifth. Robert was by no means as unprepossessing as Mazie’s brusque remarks might have led one to infer. True, he was not handsome, dashing, and meteoric like Claude Fontaine. He was of medium height and slender, with a figure touched by poetry and grace. Women described him as "so nice" until, scorched by his flaming spirit, they learnt that ideas, and ideas alone, could make him incandescent. "Lucky you left after Hutchins bowled us over," he said to Claude. "The rest of the meeting was dry as dust." "I thought as much," said Claude. "What happened?" "It was voted to supplement the main affair of the ball with a few side features." "Like what?" "Like a raffle, a fish pond, and—several other things that I fear I paid no attention to. All I remember is that I was deputed to get some one to act as a fortune-teller." "Cornelia’s the girl for that," cried Mazie. "She’s a regular clip at reading palms, men’s palms especially. Oh, she can do it slick. Why, she can give you a worse character than Chiro." "What luck. The fact is, Cornelia, the committee had you in mind. May I count on you? You shall be mistress of a gypsy tent." "No, _Robert le Diable_, a thousand times, no! Don’t you know my habits better than to invite me to a ball?" It had pleased Cornelia to "live in seclusion" as she called it, for some time past. "I know you don’t go to dances, Cornelia. Neither do I. But think of the opportunity we’ll have of talking undisturbed and finding out what other dislikes we have in common. While the rest go on with the dance, our joy will be unconfined."