"Paris, eh? Racing season's on over there now. How'd you like to run across for the Grand Prix, Persis?"
"Paris is a nice place," said Persis, with a mystic veil about her voice.
And now Ten Eyck looked at her. Their eyes met. His were angry, and hers fell before their prophetic ire. She stammered a little as she said:
"I like London better. We could make the Royal Cup at Ascot if we hurried. My sister could take care of us in the country."
But Ten Eyck slapped his knees impatiently, glared at her, and growled:
"Bluffer! Good night!"
And he was gone without shaking hands.
"What did he mean by bluffer?" said Enslee. "Doesn't he like your sister?"
"Apparently not," said Persis. "And he used to be crazy about her. She threw him overboard for 'Kelly.'"