"I promised Mr. Granthope that he wouldn't be asked," she interposed, smiling with difficulty.
"Office hours from ten till four," Fernigan announced. The guests tittered.
Granthope arose calmly and walked up to the young lady's side, taking her hand. Then he turned to his sarcastic tormentor.
"This is one of the rewards of my profession," he said, smiling graciously. "I assure you I don't often get a chance to hold such a beautiful hand as this."
Clytie got a glance across to him, and in it he read her approval. He bent to the girl's palm gravely:
"I see by your clothes-line," he said, "that you have much taste and dress well. Your fish-line shows that you have extraordinary luck in catching anything you want. There are many victories along your line of march. There is a pronounced line of beauty here; in fact, all your lines are cast in pleasant places. You will have a very good hand at whatever game you play, and whoever is fortunate enough to marry you will surely take the palm."
He retired gracefully, followed by laughter and applause, and was not troubled by more requests. Clytie whispered to him:
"I think you saved yourself with honor. It was a test, but I was sure of you!"
Mrs. Maxwell, immensely relieved, almost immediately gave the signal for the ladies to leave. After the men had reseated themselves, heavy Chinese pipes with small bowls were passed about. Most of the guests tried a few puffs of the mild tobacco, and then reached for cigarettes or cigars. As the doors to the drawing-room were shut they drew closer together and began to talk more freely.
Blanchard Cayley came over and sat down beside Granthope in Clytie's empty chair. He, too, had taken off his wig. His smile was ingratiating, his voice was suave, as he said: