“Appleby, for instance?”
“Oh, yes, indeed! I’d trust Mr. Appleby’s opinions on any subject. Let’s go over there and tell him so.”
Samuel Appleby was sitting at the other end, the north end of the long room. “No,” said Wheeler, “I’m too comfortable here to move—ask him to come here.”
Genevieve looked at him a little astonished. It was out of order, she thought, for a host to speak thus. She pressed the point, saying there was a picture at the other end of the room she wished to examine.
“Run along, then,” said Wheeler, coolly. “Here, Maida, show Miss Lane that etching and tell her the interesting details about it.”
The girls went away, and soon after Keefe drifted round to Wheeler’s side.
“You know young Sam Appleby?” he asked, casually.
“No,” Wheeler said, shortly but not sharply. “I daresay he’s a most estimable chap.”
“He’s all of that. He’s a true chip of the old block. Both good gubernatorial timber, as I’m sure you agree.”
“What makes you so sure, Mr. Keefe?”