"But, Ken," Emily Tweksbury followed her companion from the room, "you are like that—you really are! You just take life by the throat and you are sure of yourself in a way that frightens me."
"Oh, come, Aunt Emily, that girl has caught you by her nonsense. See here, let us do a bit of sleuthing! I bet the sibyl often is at dinners where we go—and I'm not so sure but what I would know those hands of hers anywhere—they were not ordinary hands. Two can play at her little game."
This seemed to offer some inducement to Mrs. Tweksbury and she brightened.
"Her walk, too, Ken. Did you notice that?"
"Yes—I did, by Jove! Longer strides than most girls take and a swing from the hips like a graceful dance motion. Yes, that walk should be a dead give-away."
"And her eyes, Ken, she has eyes!"
"Yes," rather musingly, "she has eyes!"
"Ken, we mustn't give further countenance to this silly, faddy place."
This with conviction.
"Why should we, Aunt Emily? I only went at your request, you know."