you know; the rest will come. I am trying to persuade Blanche
to let me have a pavilion at her party in March, and gaze for
all you dull political people." Again she smiled.

Chilcote smiled as well. "How is it done?" he asked,
momentarily amused.

"Oh, the doing is quite delicious. You sit at a table with
the ball in front of you; then you take the subject's hands,
spread them out on the table, and stroke them very softly
while you gaze into the crystal; that gets up the sympathy,
you know." She looked up innocently. "Shall I show you?"

Chilcote moved a small table nearer to the couch and spread
his hands upon it, palms downward. "Like this, eh?" he said.
Then a ridiculous nervousness seized him and he moved away.
"Some other day," he said, quickly. "You can show me some
other day. I'm not very fit this afternoon."

If Lillian felt any disappointment, she showed none. "Poor
old thing!" she said, softly. "Try to sit here by me and we
won't bother about anything." She made a place for him beside
her, and as he dropped into it she took his hand and patted it
sympathetically.

The touch was soothing, and he bore it patiently enough.
After a moment she lifted the hand with a little exclamation
of reproof.

"You degenerate person! You have ceased to manicure. What