"Elaine's a girl in a million!" Devereux declared. "I wish there were some more of that sort." "Would you pick one?" Pendleton asked. "Would I pick one? Well, rather, my friend." "Why didn't you pick Elaine?" "I wanted to but she wouldn't be picked--by me." "I can't remember that you fussed her especially." "I can't remember it myself; but I reckon I read my doom beforehand, and didn't go up against it. Elaine is a winner for looks, Pendleton. She was the loveliest thing last night I most ever saw--in a shimmering silver gown and--there was only one woman who was her equal in looks: Stephanie Lorraine. _She's_ unbeatable--simply unbeatable!" "I'm sorry I wasn't there!" laughed Pendleton. "You should have been there. That bounder Porshinger was playing the devoted to her--had her in the conservatory for a half an hour." He glanced slyly at the other. "So long, indeed, as to occasion comment. I overheard some of the dowager tabby-cats mewing over it." He paused a moment, then asked seriously: "Pendleton, why don't you warn her of Porshinger's attentions? _You_ can do it. He is up to no good, you may be sure--at least, no one will ever credit him with any good where Stephanie is concerned. You understand, old chap." "Do you mean that people will suspect _her_?" Pendleton demanded. "You and I and her other friends and the right-minded people won't, but there are a lot who will. It well be a fresh bit for them to roll over their tongues and to infer and imply the scandalous. The question is whether she can afford to have them do it--now." "She is simply courteous and nice to him," Pendleton replied. "I know she is. Yet why not be simply courteous, and let it go at that; what is the good of being _nice_ to him?" "No good at all--but----" "I told Gladys she would regret having Porshinger to Criss-Cross. It's all due to that Sunday, damn it!" "I don't think so," Pendleton said, with a shake of his head. "It may have accelerated it by a few weeks--Porshinger was sure to get in anyway." "Get in! Of course he would get in!" Devereux exclaimed. "But he wouldn't have come in through the Chamberlain doorway--nor have had any opportunity to know Stephanie well. I can't see what Gladys meant by it--and yet she must have had some object. She is the last to do things on impulse." "Here she comes--you might ask her," Pendleton remarked, as Miss Chamberlain appeared on the piazza through one of the low French-windows. Both men arose and bowed. "May I sit down?" she said. "I'm tired out and--thirsty. Get me some tea, please--and some toast, the soft kind." She removed her gloves and put up her veil. "It is charming here." "_Now_ it is!" said Devereux. "Warwick," she smiled, "I've long ago learned that when you flatter you want something! What is it? Out with it." "He must be in a condition of perpetual want," Pendleton derided. "When Gladys is around, I am," Devereux agreed. "She keeps me on starvation rations, don't you know."