"Valeska," he said at last, between two long inhalations of the water-pipe, "did you ever try to put out a fire in the grate by covering the front with a blower?"
She laid down her pencil and looked up smiling. "Why, no. It only makes the fire burn the hotter, doesn't it?"
He nodded his head gravely. "Precisely. And yet that's what Mrs. Lorsson is doing with her daughter Ruth."
Valeska waited for something more.
"I had an interesting time there to-day," he went on. "There were a dozen or more pretty well-known society women at her tea, and they were all crazy to have me read their palms, of course. That was all stupid enough, until Ruth Lorsson came in. Have you ever seen her?"
"Oh, yes," said Valeska. "A pretty girl of about eighteen, with dark eyes and dark hair, isn't she? She always looks so innocent that I want to pet her."
"You needn't worry. She has somebody to pet her, if I'm not mistaken. And as for being timid and innocent; well, you never can tell by the looks; that is, unless you see what I saw." He smiled again mysteriously.
"Is she in love then?" Valeska asked.
"Without doubt, by her handwriting, which I saw a sample of—you should have seen the double curve in the crossing of her t's—and by her heart line, too, for that matter; and by her general appearance and demeanor, most decidedly. But I had better proof than all that."
"Why, was he there? I could have told in an instant, I'm sure."
