"You're betting on a certainty and a fat ankle."
"Sure. I've seen her ankles going upstairs too often.... What the devil is the old lady wearing under that domino?"
"Wait till you see her later," said Quarren, delightedly. "She has come as Brunhilda."
"I don't want to see three hundred pounds of relative as Brunhilda," growled Westguard.
"You will, to-morrow. She's given her photograph to a Herald man."
"What did you let her do it for?" demanded Westguard wrathfully.
"Could I help it?"
"You could have stopped her. She thinks your opinion is the last lisp in fashionable art problems."
"There are some things you can't tell a woman," said Quarren. "One of 'em concerns her weight."
"Are you afraid of Mrs. Sprowl?"