"Isn't that better than letting you starve?" Gladys asked. "It is not comparable to being well fed," he responded. "I can't devote all my time to providing for the needy," she smiled. "You might at least give me the time you confer on Mr. Porshinger." "So--that is the fly in the ointment, is it?" she asked. "You're likely to find before you are through with him that you're the fly and not Porshinger," retorted Devereux. "Then I shall look to you and Montague to come promptly to my rescue and fish me out." "It would have been wiser never to have got in. However, as first aid to the injured, Monte and I are some class--and we're likely to be called on to fish someone else than you out of the ointment--that is to say, out of your friend Porshinger's clutches." "I confess that I don't understand you," said Gladys. "Do you, Montague?" "Do you, Montague?" sarcasmed Devereux. "Well, seeing that we're just discussing the matter when you blew along, I sort of reckon he does. Tell the lady what it is, Monte; you advised me to ask her." "Tell her yourself, you tattle-tale!" laughed Pendleton. "Gladys will understand the spirit in which _I_ said it." "You must admit that you didn't and don't approve!" "Certainly--as I've already told Gladys; but I've not asked for her reasons. They are her own, I take it." "And I'm just curious, you think? Well, let it go at that. I am curious, I admit it, to know--and Pendleton advised me to ask you, Gladys--why _you_ invited Porshinger to Criss-Cross the other Sunday? You see what has been the result: the bars are down. Why did you do it?" "Because I wanted to do it," she replied sweetly. "Undoubtedly. You don't do much that you don't want to do--but what was your ulterior motive?" "Was it so bad as that?" Gladys asked. "Worse--far worse, I suspect." "Then don't voice it--keep it dark." "I will. I'll go away and leave you with Pendleton--and with an insane curiosity to know just what I suspect. In fact, you will give him no rest until he tells you.--See?" and with a laugh and a nod he arose and strolled away. Gladys watched him with an amused smile until he turned the corner of the piazza--then she spoke. "He doesn't suspect the real reason?" she asked. Pendleton shook his head rather shortly. "No more than that there _was_ a reason," he answered. "A reason which, I fear, was very foolish and absurd. You see where it has led and is leading?--Were you at the Croydens last night?" "For a little while." "Did you see Stephanie?" "Only for a moment." "Where?" "I don't recollect--in the drawing-room, I think." "Was Porshinger with her?" "Not that I remember."