t, he would have laughed.

He enjoyed life; he was genial and jovial, both lavish and
parsimonious,--this latter characteristic being the curious survival of
the trait of the ancestors to which he owed his millions. He was growing
even heavier, and decidedly red in the face.

Perry used to take Ralph to task for not saving Ham from his iniquities,
and Ralph would reply that Ham was going to the devil anyway, and not
even the devil himself could stop him.

"You can stop him, and you know it," Perry retorted indignantly.

"What do you want me to do with him?" asked Ralph. "Convert him to the
saintly life I lead?"

This was a poser.

"That's a fact," sand Perry, "you're no better than he is."

"I don't know what you mean by 'better,'" retorted Ralph, grinning. "I'm
wiser, that's all." (We had been talking about the ethics of business
when Perry had switched off to Ham.) "I believe, at least, in restraint
of trade. Ham doesn't believe in restraint of any kind."

When, therefore, the news suddenly began to be circulated in the Boyne
Club that Ham was showing a tendency to straighten up, surprise and
incredulity were genuine. He was drinking less,--much less; and it was
said that he had severed certain ties that need not again be definitely
mentioned. The theory of religious regeneration not being tenable, it was
naturally supposed that he had fallen in love; the identity of the
unknown lady becoming a fruitful subject of speculation among the
feminine portion of society. The announcement of the marriage of
Hambleton Durrett would be news of the first magnitude, to be absorbed
eagerly by the many who had not the honour of his acquaintance,
--comparable only to that of a devastating flood or a murder mystery
or a change in the tariff.

Being absorbed in affairs that seemed more important, the subject did not
interest me greatly. But one cold Sunday afternoon, as I made my way, in
answer to her invitation, to see Nancy Willett, I found myself wondering
idly whether she might not be by way of making a shrewd guess as to the
object of Hambleton's affections. It was well known that he had
entertained a hopeless infatuation for her; and some were inclined to
attribute his later lapses to her lack of response. He still called on
her, and her lectures, which she delivered like a great aunt with a
recondite knowledge of the world, he took meekly. But even she had seemed
powerless to alter his habits....

Powell Street, tha