Her indifference was rapidly taking
another and more decided character.
"Hands up for drawing the bashful youth into Circe's circle!" called
Travers, now thoroughly elated. A forest of hands went up. Captain Webb
and his bosom comrade, Captain Saunders, who, for diplomatic reasons had
remained neutral, exchanged grins. "You see," Travers said, turning with
deferential politeness to the Colonel, "the day is against you."
"The Old Guard dies, but never surrenders!" quoted the Colonel
good-humoredly.
"The next question is, on whose shoulders shall the task of beguilement
fall?" Travers went on, glancing at Stafford. "I suppose you, O, wise
young judge--?"
"It is out of the question," Stafford answered at once. "I consider I have
done enough damage already."
"What about your serpent's tongue, Travers?" suggested Webb. "When I think
of the follies you have tempted me to commit, I feel that you should be
unanimously elected."
Travers bowed his acknowledgments with mock gravity.
"Since there are no other candidates, I accept the onerous task," he said,
"but I can not go about it single-handed. The serpent's tongue may be
mine, but I lack, I fear, the grace and personal charm necessary for
complete conquest. I need the help of Circe, herself." His bright,
bird-like eye passed over the laughing group, resting on Lois an instant
with an expression of woebegone regret. Beatrice Cary was the next in
line, and his search went no farther than her flushed, eager face.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34