"Isn't that rather a leading question?" Miss Chamberlain asked. "Why did you want to find out?" Miss Tazewell persisted. "I wanted to anticipate the crowd," Gladys explained. "In a year everyone will be trying--and most of them will be finding him very agreeable." "Mainly because you started it. You entertained him--the mob will follow like sheep." "You rate me quite too high, my dear," said Gladys. "Do I? We shall see." "Unless you all join in with me," Gladys added. "I prefer to wish you a false prophet--and that Porshinger won't be taken up. He hasn't a single thing about him that is attractive--except his money." "And the fact that he is _not_ married--and wants to get in," adjected Gladys. "Why don't one of you three marry him?" "Why not all of us marry him?" said Dorothy over her shoulder, as she went out. "I haven't a doubt he would be entirely willing--if you can arrange it together, and be peaceable!" laughed Gladys. "You might submit it to him!" Dorothy laughed back. * * * * * * * "Well, what did _you_ make of him?" Gladys asked, when the others had gone. "Not much--but enough to know that he is dangerous," replied Stephanie, holding out one silken ankle and inspecting it critically. "It seems to me you've made out very considerable. Is he too wild to be permitted with our tame animals?" "He is pretty savage, Gladys, pretty savage. I don't know that I care to see him except in a crowd. To be perfectly candid, I'm afraid of him." "Afraid of him!" her hostess marvelled. "Mercy upon us, what has happened? What did he do to-night in the few minutes you were alone--kiss you?" Stephanie shook her head. "No--he didn't kiss me." "Tried?" "No--he didn't try--he didn't even so much as touch my gown, to my knowledge." "Was it his talk?" "Yes--and no. It was his manner, which was strictly proper and yet most indicative of what he was capable. I tell you, I am afraid of him!" "You mean that his talk was suggestive?" asked Gladys. "No--not in that way--yet it was suggestive of what he could do if he had the opportunity." She laughed a little consciously. "You see, last evening on the side piazza--when Montague and I were alone--he did something a trifle beyond the conventional. Just as he did it, some one turned on the light in the billiard room directly behind--and Porshinger saw us." "Where was _he_?" "I don't know." "How do you know he saw you?" "He told me." "What! baldly told you?" Gladys exclaimed. "Not that he had seen--_it_, but that he had seen _us_. He told the balance with his look and his smile--and what he didn't say." "What ailed Montague that he got unconventional--or rather what ailed you that you let him?" "The evening, I reckon, did for us both--and the miserable lights did the rest. I'm inclined to hold you responsible, my dear, for our being seen."