"Saucy witch!" whispered Mrs. Tweksbury; "Ken, test her, for my sake!" Again the foot under the table steered Raymond's thoughts. He found himself smiling up at Joan and, rising, offered her the third chair at his table. She sat down quite indifferently, but graciously, and spread out her pretty hands. Joan's hands were lovely--Raymond was susceptible to hands. To him they indicated fineness or the reverse. Art could do much for hands, but Nature could do more. Quite as graciously and simply as Joan had done Raymond spread his own hands forth with the remark: "At your mercy, Sibyl." Now Joan, through much study of books and with a certain intuition that stood her in good stead, had cleverly conquered her tricks. For what they were worth, she offered them charmingly, seriously, and with impressiveness. Then, too, from much guessing, with astonishing results, she had grown to half believe in what she was doing. Patricia aided her in this. Patricia had a superstitious streak and took to fads as she took to her verse--on her flying trips. "You are a business man," Joan began, fixing her splendid eyes on the frankly upturned hands--she was comparing them with the hands of the Third Sex, those studio-haunting men whose hands, like their linen and morals, were too often off-colour. "An honest business man!" Joan thought that, but did not voice it. "You will succeed--if----" This she spoke aloud and then looked up. She was ready now to punish her prey for that look of doubt in his eyes. "If--what?" Raymond was conscious of the "feel" of the hand which held his--Joan's other hand was lying open beside his on the table. "If----" and now Joan traced delicately a line in his palm--a faint, wavering line running hither and thither among the more strongly marked ones; "if you strengthen this line," she said. "You are too sure of--of your inherited traits. This line indicates individuality; it will rule in the end, but you are making personality your god now. That is unwise. As a well-trained servant it is wonderful, but as a master it will run you off your best course." How Patricia would have gloried could she have heard her words mouthed by Joan! Raymond stared. He felt Mrs. Tweksbury's foot on his and, mentally, clung to it as a familiar and safe landmark. "Just what difference lies between individuality and personality?" he asked so seriously that Joan's mouth twitched under her life-saving veil. She brought Patricia's philosophy into more active action.