"Don't talk through your hat, Lloyd," said Pryor, affecting indignation. "Janet's a girl in a million. Whoever marries her is a made man."
"You are a cool hand," said Robert, lost in admiration. "I don't know what in thunder your game is. Let me say this, though. As a man of mystery you may be as superb a demon as Mark Twain's Mysterious Stranger. But as a matchmaker you're a hopeless old blunderbuss."
He briefly outlined his recent experiences in Paris, including the tableau of himself in the act of stumbling upon Janet and M. St. Hilaire; he also sketched the sequel to this climax.
Pryor's restless eyes remained singularly still during this recital. At its close, he offered one enigmatic remark:
"If Janet's coming to New York, we may yet be able to pull the chestnuts out of the fire."
In response to further questions, Robert gave a few intimate word pictures of unpublishable incidents at the Geneva Labor Congress. He also touched rather pepperily on his recall by the Confederated Press.
"Serve you right," said Pryor. "To a plain man like me reformers who try to change moral standards, whether for better or for worse, are a nuisance. Too many obstacles cannot be put in their path."
"All I did was to tell the truth about my own side," said Robert indignantly.
"What! Peach on your own side? Why, even the yeggmen consider that bad form."
Robert smiled in spite of himself.