"You evidently don't know her," Woodside remarked.
"Do you know her?" his guest inquired.
"I've seen her at the Club, and she has the grand manner—such as you read about in books. She can humble you with a look, patronize you with a smile, humiliate you with a frown."
"She must be a wonderful woman!" Porshinger laughed. "I'm anxious to meet her."
"Well, we may happen over to-morrow evening and you can see whether it's to be a freeze or a thaw. I'm rather inclined to the notion that it will be a freeze—and a fairly hard one, too."
"You're a cheerful sort of sponsor," Porshinger remarked. "Better not risk your reputation as a prophet of evil."
"Don't make me your sponsor!" Woodside exclaimed. "I told you I didn't know Mrs. Lorraine."
"You know Gladys Chamberlain, don't you?"
"Yes—in a sort of way. I think she and Mrs. Woodside exchange calls, once a season, down here—not in town. Why don't you work old Chamberlain—you're in the Tuscarora with him?"
"That will serve as an additional excuse for the 'happen in.' I want the meeting to be casual—without any suggestion of pre-arrangement."