"I think you are quite right," said
I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose
high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my
left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage
and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head
was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine.
The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great
_coups_ made by men who had the daring.
"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the
Philosopher.
"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're
not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can
win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide."
Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of
the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop
out of the heads of these simple people."
"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat.
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