"
"If I went over there myself, who'll bet a dozen silk stockings that I
can't--"
"Come off it, Ess," protested her brother-in-law across the table.
"That's too high a jump, even for you."
She let herself be dissuaded, but her dovelike eyes were vagrant during
the rest of the dinner.
Pleasantly musing over the last glass of a good but moderate-priced
Rosemont-Geneste, Banneker became aware of Cressey's dinner party filing
past him: then of Jules, the waiter, discreetly murmuring something,
from across the table. A faint and provocative scent came to his
nostrils, and as he followed Jules's eyes he saw a feminine figure
standing at his elbow. He rose promptly and looked down into a face
which might have been modeled for a type of appealing innocence.
"You're Mr. Banneker, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'm Esther Forbes, and I think I've heard a great deal about you."
"It doesn't seem probable," he replied gravely.
"From a cousin of mine," pursued the girl. "She was Io Welland. Haven't
I?"
A shock went through Banneker at the mention of the name. But he
steadied himself to say: "I don't think so."
Herein he was speaking by the letter. Knowing Io Welland as he had, he
deemed it very improbable that she had even so much as mentioned him to
any of her friends.
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