"As a general proposition--with exceptions--I'll join the party." "But we also agree that the exceptions are only a matter of degree." "You mean there are no exceptions?" "Exactly!" "But there are infinitesimal degrees?" "I--suppose so," she hesitated. "Very well, I'll go along with _you_. What degree do you think I am?" "We also were of a mind that no one knows until after marriage what degree the other is--that is the pity of it." "In other words, marriage is an eye-opener!" he laughed. "Well we are unanimous on that point also. In fact, I'm ready to agree with you on anything, for anything, and at any time." "Thank you, Montague--thank you, very much," she replied, with a quick glance through her long lashes. "I want you presently to agree with me--about something." "It's done!" he replied. "What is it?" "I cannot tell you here--wait until after dinner, when we are quite alone. I'll manage that--there will be time before Auction begins." "If we're to be _quite_ alone," he said, "can't you manage that Auction doesn't begin?" "Don't ask the impossible!" she smiled. "Moreover, Auction is an excellent game." "When one isn't more agreeably employed," he added. She shot him another glance. "You say nice things to me, Montague," she remarked. "I do more than say them--I _mean_ them." "Nicer things even than you used to say," she mused. "And I mean them even more--if that is possible." "You are spoiling me with compliments." "I want to spoil you." "Why?" she asked, a bit startled. "Because it pleases me to do it--and," leaning a little closer, "because you deserve to be spoiled in the proper way." "I didn't deserve it--once," she answered. "You're a different woman from what you were--once, Stephanie." "People seem to think so!" she said, a trifle bitterly. "I didn't mean _that_," he answered quietly. "I mean that there has been little enough in your life of late to spoil you, so I shall try to make it up to you. May I?" For a moment she did not answer--bending her head lower over her plate. Then she turned and faced him--the adorable smile on her lips. "You may spoil me, Montague,--if you think it wise," she said. "I'm a wilful creature, you know." "I'll risk the wilfulness," he declared--"it is little enough to risk." "Pendleton can tell us," came Cameron's voice--"if he will stop talking trash to Mrs. Lorraine long enough to answer." "And talk trash to you instead, I presume," Pendleton remarked. "Certainly, what is it?" "How long has Porshinger belonged to the Club?" asked Cameron. "Longer than he ought," said Pendleton dryly. "We know that!" the other laughed, in which the table joined. "But was it last year, or the year before--you were on the Board of Governors, weren't you?" "Not when _he_ came in," Pendleton replied. "Consequently it must have been within the last two years; since my term expired. Sorry I can't help you out."