“By-the-way,” said Sprague, “did you read about His feeding all those people?”
“Oh yes,” said Latimer-Moire; “they were all talking about it down there.”
“Hullo, Stirling,” said a young man who had just that moment joined the group. “How about Olivia Carrington? Are you going to see her to-night?”
West laughed. “Yes,” he said, “I’m going to take Gildy to see her.”
“You see, Gilderman,” said the young fellow, “Stirling’s dead gone on the girl. He goes to the Westminster Gardens every night, and takes her out for a spin along the drive every afternoon.”
Gilderman looked at West, who again laughed.
“They say you’re having Norcott paint her portrait,” said Le Roy Barron.
“No, I’m not,” said West. “Norcott’s doing it off his own bat, for a picture to send to the Academy or somewhere, I believe.”
“By-the-way,” said Barron, “I see poor old Herod’s let them execute John.”
“Yes,” said West, “we may all thank Salome for that. Tommy Ryan was telling me all about it this morning. It seems that there was something going on down at Herod’s place last night, and Ryan was asked. It was a pretty wild sort of affair. After supper, the girl danced for them on the table in the supper-room, à la Carrington. I guess they were all pretty lively–anyhow Herod promised he’d give her whatever she’d ask him. And what does that woman, her mother, do but put her up to asking to have poor John the Baptist put out of the way. Herod would have backed out if he could, but the women held him to his promise.”