"I think I owe the pleasure of dining at Criss-Cross to you," he remarked presently.
"Did Miss Chamberlain tell you so?" she inquired.
"Not expressly—but by inference."
"Which is not at all," she smiled. "The hostess is always responsible for what guests she asks. You were convenient, we needed another man, and you consented to come, which was exceedingly kind of you. If I am at variance with what you have been told, you can take your choice."
"I was rather glad to be obligated to you—along with Miss Chamberlain," he replied. "It's a new sensation in me to be obligated to anyone—it is always the other way."
"You have many men coming to seek favors?" she said, turning the conversation to him and away from herself.
"Many men!" he laughed—"hundreds of them indeed. It's one of the penalties of wealth, I suppose."
"And one of the privileges also, it seems to me," she replied.
"That depends on the applicants—the larger number are without the least claim of merit; simply barnacles that one has to hew away. I leave it to my secretary—he does it for me and gets quit of them."