"To the extent of running away, yes," Porshinger sneered. "Otherwise she is but wiser in the _savoir faire_, so to speak." "That is a damn cynical way of looking at it, Porshinger!" "You're welcome to your view, my friend," the other shrugged. "You pays your money and you takes your choice," commented Woodside. "There is no possible doubt about you paying your money," Porshinger assured dryly. "She will come high." "If she is in the market--that is," Woodside amended. "Most women," sneered Porshinger, as he clicked the balls down the rail, "have their price--even Mrs. Lorraine." "Well, that need be no obstacle to you," Woodside retorted. "You have the price. What you haven't got is the girl--can you get her?" "My dear fellow, I don't know yet that I want her." His host laughed lightly. "You want to look her over first," he said. "I understand. Well if you do want her I wish you luck. I should hesitate about going up against that chilly beauty--she can make you feel like thirty cents if she's so minded." "She'll not have a chance to make me feel like thirty cents, depend on it," Porshinger boasted. "You evidently don't know her," Woodside remarked. "Do you know her?" his guest inquired. "I've seen her at the Club, and she has the grand manner--such as you read about in books. She can humble you with a look, patronize you with a smile, humiliate you with a frown." "She must be a wonderful woman!" Porshinger laughed. "I'm anxious to meet her." "Well, we may happen over to-morrow evening and you can see whether it's to be a freeze or a thaw. I'm rather inclined to the notion that it will be a freeze--and a fairly hard one, too." "You're a cheerful sort of sponsor," Porshinger remarked. "Better not risk your reputation as a prophet of evil." "Don't make me your sponsor!" Woodside exclaimed. "I told you I didn't know Mrs. Lorraine." "You know Gladys Chamberlain, don't you?" "Yes--in a sort of way. I think she and Mrs. Woodside exchange calls, once a season, down here--not in town. Why don't you work old Chamberlain--you're in the Tuscarora with him?" "That will serve as an additional excuse for the 'happen in.' I want the meeting to be casual--without any suggestion of pre-arrangement." Woodside nodded. "All right!" he agreed. "We'll try it--but what the lady may do to you is quite another question." "Which we will let the future determine," replied Porshinger, as he clicked up the last point. There was one thing, at least, about Porshinger that was normal--his love of country life. Incident to this was his fondness for taking long walks in the early morning--a characteristic not at all accordant with his present station. He acquired it in the days when his occupation in the oil fields made it the regular manner of life. Seven o'clock the following morning saw him on the highway, clad in knickerbockers and stout shoes, a Panama pulled down over his eyes and a light stick in his hand.