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"I wish I could draw," mused Patricia, absently sugaring her Frankfurter. "I've got tons of ideas already." "And you, Mr. Sarby, I can tell from your attitude, from your look; you love Miss Dallas." Patricia, greatly excited, patted her hard on the shoulder. "I told you you'd be a winner," she crowed. "I guess Bruce knew what he was talking about.".
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Patricia laughed and blushed with pleasure, preening herself a little and stretching on tiptoe to try to catch a glimpse in the crowded mirror; there was a movement as a sultana who had been carmining her full lips gave place to a dark beggar maid, and Patricia caught the vision of a slender, airy figure, glittering beneath its gauzy draperies with the sparkle of bright gold, and with the glint and shimmer of rosy clanking bracelets and anklets, and the spangled glory of the rose-crowned headpiece stirring a magical memory of Persia. "I agree with you!" remarked the major, sharply. "A man might make a jest of these horrors--as you are doing." "I shall explain," said Etwald. "David found out that Maurice was going to meet Isabella that night secretly in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas near the gates. Determined to see the meeting, and to learn if there was any hope for him, he feigned a journey to London in order to lull any suspicions which Maurice might have that he was being watched. Instead of going, however, he concealed himself at a spot where he could see the gates which opened onto the highway. Now," added Etwald, with a side glance at the major, "it so happened that I also wished to see that meeting." "How mean!" cried Patricia spiritedly. "Bruce hasn't even seen that study. What did he say about it?".
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