oom over
the large bay window; the one next to it was my nursery--a dear old
spot. Rather tough, old dear, to have to stand outside!" Or: "Father
was a charter member of the club, so they carry me along without dues.
Decent of them, isn't it? Father was a prince among men, robbed right
and left, y'know--always the way when a gentleman tries to be in
business. Some say it was Constantine himself who did the worst of it.
Of course never repeat it, will you? It takes a man with Steve
O'Valley's coarseness to forge ahead."

His wobbly, rickety little body always wore the most startling of
costumes. A green paddock coat, well padded, a yellow walking stick in
the thin fingers, a rakish hat, patent-leather boots, striped suits,
silk shirts with handkerchiefs to match, a gold cigarette case, and a
watch chain like a woman's, were a few of Gaylord's daily requisites.
He lived at a club called The Hunters of Arcadia, where he paid an
occasional stipend and gambled regularly, sometimes winning. He also
promoted things in half-dishonest, half-idiotic fashion, undertaking
to bring on opera singers for a concert, sometimes realizing a decent
sum and sometimes going behind only to be rescued by an old family
friend.

Gaylord was always keen on dinner invitations. And because he was a
son of Vondeplosshe the same family friends endured his conceited
twaddle and his knock-kneed, wicked little self, and sighed with
relief when he went away. It would be so much easier to send these
dethroned sons of rich men a supply of groceries and an order for
coal!

Besides these lines of activity Gaylord wrote society items for the
paper, and as he knew everyone and everything about them he was worth
a stipend to the editor. He was considered a divine dancer by the
buds, and counted as a cutey by widows. But his standing among
creditors was: If he offered a check for the entire amount or a dollar
on account, pass up the check!

Steve had destroyed several IOU's with Gaylord's name attached for the
sole reason that Gay had been a playmate of Beatrice's and she rather
favoured him.

"He is so convenient," she had defended. "You can always call him up
at the last minute if someone has disappointed for cards or dinner,
and he is never busy. He can shop with you as well as a woman, lunch
with you, dance with you--and he does know the proper way to handle
small silver. Besides, he loves Monster." Monster was Bea's
pound-and-a-half spaniel, which b