"You don't need suggest it to the men--they belong already. No one controls them. I wish I were a man!" "You do quite well as you are--and are a lot more worth while," said Stephanie. "You can get a dozen men, my dear. Which one have you picked out for yourself, in the present instance?" "I hadn't thought!" she laughed. "Pendleton is for you, of course--that is all I know now." "Why of course?" said Stephanie. "You can answer that better than I." "Not _your_ reasons, my dear." "Do you object to Montague being allotted to you?" Gladys asked, with a sly smile. "Not in the least----" "And do you fancy _he_ will have the slightest objection?" "You will have to ask him." "I'm asking for _your opinion_, not for his." "Montague is very adaptable," Stephanie remarked. "Adaptable!" cried Gladys. "He may be _now_--he hasn't been in the _recent_ past. Your influence has evidently been softening--I shouldn't have thought of asking him if it hadn't been for you." "Thank Heaven, I've a softening influence on some one," said Stephanie. "Without a doubt--yes." They were starting down a long, steep and winding grade. She cut off the spark, threw into second and opening the throttle let the gas shoot into the cylinders to cool the engine. "My recommendation that you get some one interested in you is rather unnecessary under the circumstances, don't you think?" she remarked. "How about my getting interested in some one?" Stephanie inquired. "On second thought, it is not necessary--and it is better that you shouldn't. You can handle Pendleton much more easily if your affections are not engaged--except in a rational way." "You might explain what you would call a 'rational way'!" "I can't be specific!" Gladys laughed; "rationality depends on the circumstances of every case--and the individual view." "Which is a trifle difficult to analyze," Stephanie remarked. "Don't you wish to have Montague assigned to you?" the other demanded. "I'll give him to Dorothy, if you don't--she will be content." "Won't you have some trouble in giving Montague to anybody--unless he's entirely willing to be given?" Stephanie smiled. "He isn't one to stay put, I fancy--whose place is this?" she ended, indicating a garish country-house, some little distance back from the road. "It is new, isn't it?" "As new as the people who own it," Gladys answered. "The Woodsides live there. They belong to the Pushers Clique--and they are trying to pry their way through the outer portals. I don't like them." "So I should infer," said Stephanie. "Who are their friends?" "They haven't any--yet. They're trying to get in--nobody has any friends until they're in, my dear--and not many after they're in. They're pirates until the second generation." "Do they belong to the Club?" "Yes--that's no recommendation _now_." "I think I don't know them!" Stephanie reflected.