“Talk of the devil—do you see him—Pick?”
“I see,” growled Braith.
“And—and excuse me, but can that be madame? So like, and yet—”
Braith leaned forward and looked steadily at a couple who were slowly moving toward them in deep conversation.
“No,” he said at last; and leaning back in his seat he refused to speak again.
Bulfinch chattered on excitedly, and at last he brought his fist down on the table at his right, where Clifford sat drawing a caricature on the marble top.
“I’d like,” cried Bulfinch, “to take it out of his hide!”
“Hello!” said Clifford, disturbed in his peaceful occupation, “whose hide are you going to tan?”
“Nobody’s,” said Braith, sternly, still watching the couple who had now almost reached their group.
Clifford’s start had roused Gethryn, who stirred and slowly looked up; at the same moment, the girl, now very near, raised her head and Rex gazed full into the eyes of Yvonne.