forcing their way on foot to the front. Marsh, who was
always moved to sarcasm by such occasions, kept up a running comment.

"Marvelous exhibition! Every one who's gunning for Drake is here
to-night. There's old Borneman. He's been laying for a chance to catch
Daniel D. on the wrong side of the market ever since Drake trimmed him
in a wheat corner in Chicago. By Jove, the Fontaines and the Gunthers.
They're going to this as to a circus. Why the deuce didn't the cards
read Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Drake invite you to meet their enemies!"

"Never mind," said Bojo, laughing. "It's Mrs. Drake's night--she'll be
in her glory, you can bet."

"Oh, you'll be as bad as the rest," said Marsh, who spoke his mind.
"Tom, you're doomed. I can see that. You've got a feminine will to
contend with, so make your mind up to the inevitable. There's Haggerdy's
party now--every bandit in Wall Street'll be here figuring up how they
can get at their host. Well, Bojo, you're lost to us already."

"How so?"

"In this game, you never pay attention to your friends--you've got to
entertain those who dislike you, to make sure they'll have to invite you
to some function or other where everybody must be seen. Well, I know
what I'll do, I'll get hold of the youngest sister, who is a trump, and
play around with her."

Bojo looked at him uneasily; even this casual interest in Patsie
affected him disagreeably. DeLancy had deserted them to rush over to the
assistance of the Stones, who were just arriving.

"I hope he gets her," said Marsh, studying the blond profile of Miss
Gladys Stone.

"I believe there's some sort of an understanding."

"The sooner the better--for Freddie," said Marsh, with a shake of his
head. "The trouble with Fred is he thinks he's a cold thinking machine,
and he's putty in the hands of any woman who comes along."

"I'm worried about a certain person myself," said Bojo.

But at this moment Thornton, one of Mr. Drake's secretaries, touched him
on the arm.

"Will you please come to the library, Mr. Crocker? Mr. Drake has been
asking for you to witness some papers."

In the library off in a quiet wing he found a party of five gathered
about the table desk, lawyers verifying the securities for the marriage
settlement, Maitre Vondin, a stubby, black-bearded Frenchman imported
for the occasion, coldly incredulous and suavely insistent, the storm
center of an excited group who had been arguing since dinner. Drake, by
the firepl