as often
made him tired to see the way in which some of your titled nonentities
grovel before a Lithuanian Jew who is a power on the Rand. But
unbending is a different thing to groveling, perhaps?"

Mrs. Devar sighed, yet she gave a moment's scrutiny to a wine-list
brought by the head waiter.

"A small bottle of 61, please," she said in an undertone.

Then she sighed again, deprecating the Vanrenen directness.

"Unfortunately, my dear, few of our set can avoid altogether the
worship of the golden calf."

Cynthia thrust an obstinate chin into the argument.

"People will do things for bread and butter that they would shy at if
independent," she said. "I can understand the calf proposition much
more easily than the snobbishness that would forbid a gentleman like
Fitzroy from eating a meal in the same apartment as his employers,
simply because he earns money by driving an automobile."

In her earnestness, Cynthia had gone just a little beyond the bounds
of fair comment, and Mrs. Devar was quick to seize the advantage thus
offered.

"From some points of view, Fitzroy and I are in the same boat," she
said quietly. "Still, I cannot agree that it is snobbish to regard a
groom or a coachman as a social inferior. I have been told that there
are several broken-down gentlemen driving omnibuses in London, but
that is no reason why one should ask one of them to dinner, even
though his taste in wine might be beyond dispute."

Cynthia had already regretted her impulsive outburst. Her vein of
romance was imbedded in a rock of good sense, and she took the
implied reproof penitently.

"I am afraid my sympathies rather ran away with my manners," she said.
"Please forgive me. I really didn't mean to charge you with being a
snob. The absurdity of the statement carries its own refutation. I
spoke in general terms, and I am willing to admit that I was wrong in
asking the man to come here to-night. But the incident happened quite
naturally. He mentioned the fact that he often stayed in the hotel as
a boy----"

"Very probably," agreed Mrs. Devar cheerfully. "We are all subject to
ups and downs. For my part, I was speaking _a la_ chaperon, my sole
thought being to safeguard you from the disagreeable busy-bodies who
misconstrue one's motives. And now, let us talk of something more
amusing. You see that woman in old rose brocade--she is sitting with a
bald-headed man at the third table on your left. Well, that is the
Countess of Port