"You approve of the Puritan type, then?"
"I am the strongest believer in individuality, and she has lost hers tonight. She is as out of place as—as—you would be in the role of Priscilla."
"I am not quite sure whether you intend that as a compliment or the reverse," returned Jessica, laughing; "but analysis is such a stupid thing. At all events she gives promise of being one of the best poker players I have ever seen, and while that may not be altogether a recommendation for a woman to the clerical class, it certainly is to the persons whom Carlita is liable to meet. But let us talk about yourself. Do you know, I fancy you are not looking well."
"It is all fancy, I assure you."
"No, it is not. You are pale, dark under the eyes, and disturbed looking."
"Biliousness, I give you my word."
"No. I'm afraid you got a germ of some sort of disease in Mexico. You have never been yourself since you returned from there."
He was eating a deviled kidney, sandwiched between two broiled mushrooms, but pushed it away from him as she spoke. The faintest perceptible frown gathered between his eyes.
"Imagination!" he answered, with a short laugh.
"You liked Mexico, then?"