People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I
suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither
of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.
The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and
puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat
and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns
the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of
being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining
under such auspices.
Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The
Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the
time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her
simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink,
embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea
devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on
very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under
cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk.
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