Karl Steinmetz laughed quietly.
“What do I represent?” he asked.
“Safety,” she replied at once.
She gave a queer little laugh and went on dancing.
“And Paul?” he said, after a little while.
“Strength,” replied Maggie promptly.
He looked down at her—a momentary glance of wonder. He was like a woman, inasmuch as he judged a person by a flicker of the eyelids—a glance, a silence—in preference to judging by the spoken word.
“Then with us both to take care of you, may we hope that you will brave the perils of Osterno? Ah—the music is stopping.”
“If I may assure my mother that there are no perils.”
Something took place beneath the gray mustache—a smile or a pursing up of the lips in doubt.