was busy with his soup then--her head was high and her eyes
fixed upon Miss Gordon at the other end of the room. She was estimating
her chances of reaching Elspeth with the limited self-control at her
command. Then she heard words and paused without turning her head.

"I wish you would stop a moment. I have a question to ask you."

Joan had a sudden fear that if she did not stop the question would be
shouted.

"Very well," she said, quietly, and sat down opposite Raymond.

She clasped her pretty hands before her and--waited.

It is not easy to laugh away the moments in life that we cannot account
for--they often seem the only moments of tremendous import; they are the
channels which, once entered, give access to wide experiences. Joan felt
her breath coming hard; she was frightened. Raymond pushed his plate
aside and, leaning forward a bit over his clasped hands, said casually:

"Just how much of this rot do you believe?"

"None of it."

"Why do you do it?"

"I am earning my bread and butter and--dessert."

"Especially--the dessert?"

"No. Especially bread and butter. It is only a bit of fun, you
know--this reading of the palms. Miss Gordon thinks it--it aids
digestion," Joan was speaking hardly above a whisper.

"She does, eh?" Raymond had an insane desire to snatch the shielding
veil from the face across the table. He wondered what would happen if he
did?

"I wish," he said instead, "I wish you'd cut it out, you know."

"What--my bread and butter?"

"No--this tomfoolery. I don't believe you have to earn your living. I'd
lay a wager that you are doing it as a stunt to vary the monotony of a
dull existence, but there are other and better ways of doing that, you
know."

Raymond was deadly earnest and did not stop to consider the absurdity of
his words and tones.

"What ways?" asked Joan, and Raymond detected the suggestion of a smile
behind the vapoury veil.

"I don't think I need to tell you that," he said.

"Perhaps not--but after consideration I've chosen this way. I like it."
Joan was getting control of herself, and in proportion to her gain
Raymond lost.

"I suppose you think me an impudent ass," he ventured.

"I'm--thinking of something else," Joan answered.

"What, for instance?"

"That line--in your hand."

"I thought you said this was only fun; that you did not believe in it?"
Raymond frowned as he saw his next course advancing toward him.

"There are exceptions," and Joan helped