Pendleton had no opportunity for a quiet word with Stephanie--possibly by her intention--and she went off upstairs with a nod and a backward glance from the landing. Her glance, however, could say much when she was so minded. "Come in, girls, and gossip a bit," said Gladys, as the four of them were passing her door.... "What did you think of Porshinger, Helen?" "As an Auction player he is pretty fair," Mrs. Burleston replied. "I didn't form any opinion of him otherwise. It wasn't necessary." "There is a certain set to his jaw that I don't care for," Miss Tazewell remarked. "He has a trick of dropping it, and then gathering it up and pushing his upper lip back with it. He makes me nervous." "Did it interfere with your play?" laughed Gladys. "It disconcerted me. I couldn't keep my eyes off him when he did it--which was about all the time." "Maybe that is the reason he did it!" Stephanie smiled. "I never observed the peculiarity." "Perhaps he reserves it for the card table and other weighty affairs of life," Mrs. Burleston suggested. "Didn't _you_ notice it?" demanded Dorothy. "Not particularly--though since you mention it I do recall something of the sort." "You must have been blind, Helen." "I wasn't looking in Mr. Porshinger's face, my dear," retorted Mrs. Burleston sweetly. At which Miss Tazewell laughed. "You could infer that I was," she replied good-naturedly; "but I hope you won't!" "I thought Porshinger wasn't so bad," Gladys remarked. "He handled himself very well at dinner, and was most polite,"--with a glance at Stephanie. "He seemed to talk enough," said Mrs. Burleston. "Didn't I overhear him discussing business with you, Stephanie?" "He didn't discuss much else," Mrs. Lorraine replied. "I wonder if he _was_ an oil well shooter originally?" remarked Dorothy. "I've heard so." "I've heard so, too," Mrs. Burleston replied. "It's interesting because he has survived. They all are killed in the course of a few years--about five is the outside limit for them, I'm told." "I reckon he got his own well before the limit expired," Dorothy commented; "and he also got about everyone else's wells in course of time--including the gas wells. Then he became a financier and proceeded to get suckers." "Whom did you hear say that?" laughed Gladys. "Warwick Devereux, of course--whom else?" "Why is it the men have such a contempt for Porshinger?" Mrs. Burleston reflected. "They all seem to despise him." "A man's judgment of a man is rarely at fault," observed Miss Tazewell, from behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. "Except when the man is a rival in business or love," Gladys remarked. "Then he is apt to be a bit biased." "Which would include about everyone," was the answer. "I've never heard of Porshinger being in love." "You've heard of him being in _business_," Dorothy smiled. "Something of it!" Gladys replied. "Do you like him?" "That is what I'm trying to find out--by asking him here." "Have you succeeded in finding out?"