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The footman appeared in the hall entrance and announced: "Mr. Brice-Ashton." Ashton came in, effusive and eager. "My dear Miss Genevieve! I ah, Mrs. Gantry! Didn't expect to meet you here, such a day as this. Most unexpected ah pleasure! N'est-ce pas? No, no! my dear Miss Leslie; keep your seat!"
He caught her curious glance, and hastened to disclaim: "No, not we Genevieve I meant Genevieve, of course!" Dolores affected a coquettish air. "Oh, Mr. Brice-Ashton! I do believe you want to get him out of the way." "I? No, no!" he protested, with an uneasy, furtive glance at Blake. "Don't try to fool me," she insisted. "I know your scheme. But it's of no use.
Brice-Ashton, you will hereafter kindly address me as 'Miss Gantry. You must be aware that I am now out." "Oh, I've no objections, just so we're not out," he punned. She gave him her shoulder, and peered eagerly through the pickets of the iron fence at a train that was backing into the station.
Brice-Ashton." "I'm sure I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Blake," murmured Ashton, his voice breaking slightly as Blake grasped his gloved hand in the bare calloused palm. "Any friend of Miss Jenny's!" responded Blake with hearty cordiality. But as he released the other's hand, he muttered half to himself, "Ashton? Ashton? Haven't I met you before, somewhere?"
"Oh, your earlship," she remarked, "this, by the way, is Mr. Laffie Brice-Ashton. I'd like to present him to you, but I'm afraid your Right Honorableness wouldn't take him even as a gift if you knew him as well as I do." "Oh, now, Do Miss Gon-tray!" protested Ashton. The Englishman bowed formally and adjusted his monocle, oblivious of the hand that Ashton had stripped of its glove.
L. Brice-Ashton?" "Of course! You don't take it for a joke, do you?" She smiled upon him with tantalizing sweetness. "Isn't it? Well, it may not be. But how about yourself?" "Dolores," he warned, "unless you wish me to withdraw my " "Your solemn suit!" she cut in. "With that and the case you mentioned, the matter is complete. A suit and a case make a suitcase. You have my permission to pack."
Here's a list of my favorite clubs. Look me up. I'll steer you to all the gay spots in little old Chi." "Mr. Brice-Ashton is one of our hustling young grain speculators," explained Dolores. "Before he went to Michamac he almost cornered the market in wild oats." "Now, Miss Dodie!" smirked Ashton. "Wait! I'll do your elbowing."
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