He poured out another glass of champagne for her and she drank it excitedly. Cayley still caressed her free hand, but his eyes were not upon her; he was thinking intently. She took his head in her two hands and turned it gently in her direction.
"There! That's where you want to look. Here is Fancy, Blan, right here."
"I see you. I was only thinking—do you know, you look like the pictures of Cleopatra?" he suggested. "Did you ever hear of Cleopatra, Fancy?"
She laughed. "I guess I ought to—I played Cleopatra once."
"Did you really—where?—comic opera or vaudeville?"
"Oh, never mind where—I made a hit all right." She leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands behind her head, smiling to herself. A tress of hair had fallen across her ear; it did not mar her beauty.
"I'll bet you got every hand in the house, too."
Fancy became suddenly convulsed with giggles. She sipped her glass and choked as she tried to swallow the wine.
Cayley passed this mysterious mirth without comment. "Granthope looks as if he had been an actor, too."
"Oh, yes, we played together—but only as amateurs." She smiled mischievously.