“For a little excitement,” she replied. “So far, I have not been disappointed. But why do you ask that question?” she demanded, with a slight uneasiness. “Why did you come here?”
“Oh,” he said, “you must remember that I'm—Lucifer, a citizen of the world, at home anywhere, a sort of 'freebooter. I'm not here all the time—but that's no reflection on Quicksands. May I make a bet with you, Mrs. Spence?”
“What about?”
“That you won't stay in Quicksands more than six months,” he answered.
“Why do you say that?” she asked curiously.
He shook his head.
“My experience with your sex,” he declared enigmatically, “has not been a slight one.”
“Trixy!” interrupted Mrs. Chandos at this juncture, from his other side, “Warry Trowbridge won't tell me whether to sell my Consolidated Potteries stock.”
“Because he doesn't know,” said Mr. Brent, laconically, and readdressed himself to Honora, who had, however, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chandos' face.
“Don't you think it's time for you to talk to Mrs. Chandos?” she asked.