“You should have been a man, Marian,” she said as they went upstairs together.
We made our way to the galleried porch and sat down, there being a lull in the figures just then. We each took out a cigar and lighted a match; and then looked across at the other. We solemnly blew our matches out.
“Perhaps she doesn't like smoke,” said Farrar, voicing the sentiment.
“Perhaps not,” said I.
Silence.
“I wonder how she will get along with the Ten?” I queried.
“Better than with us,” he answered in his usual strain. “They're trained.”
“Or with Allen?” I added irresistibly.
“Women are all alike,” said Farrar.
At this juncture Miss Thorn herself appeared at the end of the gallery, her shoulders wrapped in a gray cape trimmed with fur. She stood regarding us with some amusement as we rose to receive her.