siphon.

"Help me make tea, Sam," coaxed Valerie. "Bring out the table; that's an
exceedingly nice boy. Rita, you'll have tea, too, won't you, dear?"

Unconsciously she had come to assume the role of hostess in Neville's
studio, even among those who had been familiar there long before Neville
ever heard of her.

Perfectly unaware herself of her instinctive attitude, other people
noticed it. For the world is sharp-eyed, and its attitude is always
alert, ears pricked forward even when its tail wags good-naturedly.

Ogilvy watched her curiously as she took her seat at the tea table.
Then he glanced at Neville; but could not make up his mind.

It would be funny if there was anything between Valerie and
Neville--anything more than there ever had been between the girl and
dozens of her men friends. For Ogilvy never allowed himself to make any
mistake concerning the informality and freedom of Valerie West in her
intimacies with men of his kind. She was a born flirt, a coquette,
daring, even indiscreet; but that ended it; and he knew it; and so did
every man with whom she came in contact.

Yet--and he looked again at her and then at Neville--there seemed to him
to be, lately, something a little different in the attitudes of these
two toward each other--nothing that he could name--but it preoccupied
him sometimes.

There was a little good-natured malice in Ogilvy; some masculine
curiosity, too. Looking from Valerie to Neville, he said very
innocently:

"Kelly, you know that peachy dream with whom you cut up so shamefully on
New-year's night? Well, she asked me for your telephone number--"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Neville, annoyed.

"Why, I'm talking about Mazie," said Sam, pleasantly. "You remember
Mazie Gray? And how crazy you and she became about each other?"

Valerie, who was pouring tea, remained amiably unconcerned; and Ogilvy
obtained no satisfaction from her; but Neville's scowl was so hearty and
unfeigned that a glimpse of his visage sent Annan into fits of laughter.
To relieve which he ran across the floor, like a huge spider. Then
Valerie leisurely lifted her tranquil eyes and her eyebrows, too, a
trifle.

"Why such unseemly contortions, Harry?" she inquired.

"Sam tormenting Kelly to stir _you_ up! He's got a theory that you and
Kelly are mutually infatuated."

"What a delightful theory, Sam," said Valerie, smiling so sincerely at
Ogilvy that he made up his mind there wasn't anything i