"As for complaisance, the camera covers a multitude of indiscretions. That aside"—her glance coupled Lucinda and Summerlad in delicately malicious innuendo—"taking one consideration with another, a chaperon's lot is not a vapid one."
"I'm sure of that," Bellamy agreed with a straight face. "Not only that, but if you've any time at all to spare for your job, Mrs. Lontaine, the percentage of impaired eyesight among native sons must be high."
"Appreciation is such a beautiful thing!" Fanny purred. "Dear man! I do hope you'll be lingering in our midst a long, long time."
"No such luck for me. A few days at most. I only ran out to go over some matters with my man of business out here."
"The square-headed body with the blue gimlet eyes?" Fanny enquired, openly appraising the person who had accompanied Bellamy to this meeting, but who remained in the car with stony gaze riveted on nothing in particular—"who looks like a private detective in a five-reel re-hash of the eternal triangle?"
"The same."
"You have so many interests in California, you need a man on the spot to look after them?"
"Not many but, such as they are, of prime importance to me," Bellamy corrected with meaning.
"How romantic!" Fanny sighed, with a look so provocative that Bellamy's mouth twitched involuntarily and he hoped fervently that Lucinda wasn't looking.
He needn't have worried. Lucinda was too thoroughly occupied with her own reactions to the several more agitating aspects of this predicament to have any thoughts to spare for frivolous by-issues.