The Incubus, his thin hands clasped on his knee, his sallow
face twisted in one of its customary wry smiles, held to the edge of
his chair with characteristic pertinacity.
"Well, Walter," Orde addressed him genially, "are you having a good
time?"
"Yes-indeed!" replied the Incubus as though it were one word.
His chair was planted squarely to exclude all others. Orde surveyed
the situation with good-humour.
"Going to keep the other fellow from getting a chance, I see."
"Yes-indeed!" replied the Incubus.
Orde bent over, and with great ease lifted Incubus, chair, and all,
and set him facing Mignonne Smith and the croquet-ball.
"Here, Mignonne," said he, "I've brought you another assistant."
He returned to the lamp, to find the girl, her dark eyes alight with
amusement, watching him intently. She held the tip of a closed fan
against her lips, which brought her head slightly forward in an
attitude as though she listened. Somehow there was about her an air
of poise, of absolute balanced repose quite different from Jane's
rather awkward statics, and in direct contrast to Mignonne's
dynamics.
"Walter is a very bright man in his own line," said Orde, swinging
forward a chair, "but he mustn't be allowed any monopolies.
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