"Oh, it's a great gift. Miss Deane; never lose it. The young men don't matter. Any girl can catch one of them. But to catch the oldsters like myself—oldsters who know that they can't catch you—that takes genius, Miss Deane."
Clancy laughed.
"Please don't flatter me, Judge. Because, you know, I believe you, and——"
"Sh," said Walbrough. As he uttered the warning, his voice became almost a roar. "The jealous woman might overhear us; she is listening in the next room now——"
There was the sound of a scuffle; then came to Clancy's ears the softer voice of Mrs. Walbrough.
"Miss Deane, the senile person who just spoke to you is absurd enough to think that if an old couple—I mean an old man and his young wife—asked you, you'd probably break an engagement with some dashing bachelor and sit with us at the opera."
"I don't know the senile person to whom you refer," retorted Clancy, "but if you and the judge would like me to go, I'd love to, even though I have no engagement to break."
"We won't insist on the breaking, then. Will you run over and dine with us?"
Clancy was astonished. Then she remembered that she had dined rather early at the Broadway lunch-room. It really wasn't more than six-thirty now. People like the Walbroughs, of course, didn't dine until after seven, possibly until eight.
"I won't do that," she answered. "I'd intended to go to bed—it's such a terrible night. And I ate before I came home—but I'd love to come and sit with you," she finished impulsively.