"Well, Blanchard," she said, disregarding his hint, "am I in your list of Improbabilities now?"
"You're easily first! You certainly have surprised me."
Heretofore Mrs. Maxwell, as chaperon of the party, had been the star, but now Clytie, with her intuitive grip on this human complication, established Fancy as the guest of honor. She drank Fancy's health, and Fancy's smile became more opulent and irresistible. She kept Fancy's quick retorts going like fire-crackers, she manipulated the conversation so that it came back to Fancy at each digression. She put Fancy Gray in the center of the stage and kept her there in the calcium till her buoyant spirits soared.
"Drink with Fancy!" cried Fancy Gray, and the company, Mrs. Maxwell included, did her honor. "Drink with Fancy," she pleaded again, with a pretty, infantile pout, and Clytie knocked glasses with her every time. "Drink with Fancy," she repeated, and Cayley drew closer. It did not, apparently, daunt Clytie. She had accepted Fancy Gray as Fancy Gray had accepted her, and she did not withdraw an inch from her position. The talk ran on, with Fancy always the center of interest. Her sallies were original, brisk, and often witty. Fancy's brain grew more agile and more bold. Also, her glances played more softly upon Blanchard Cayley. He made the most of them, with an eye on Clytie, awaiting her look of protest. But it did not come.
About them the revelry still continued amidst the clattering of knives and forks and dishes. Course after course had been brought on and removed by the hurrying, overworked waiters. Once, a madcap couple arose to dance a cake-walk up and down between the tables. Of the group of eight singers in the corner, three had fallen into a mild stupor, three were affectionately maudlin; two, still mirthful, sang noisily, pounding upon the table.
By twos and threes, now, parties began to leave.
There was a popular song swinging through the room, accented by tinkling glasses, when Fancy reached out her left hand, and took Clytie's.
"I must be going, now; good night."
Clytie held the hand. "Oh, must you? Wait and let us put you on your car, anyway!"
"No, I'll drift along. I can take care of myself, all right."