ccasion.

Now they were really in Society. A reporter called to get Alice's photo
for the Sunday supplement; and floods of invitations came--and with
them all the cares and perplexities about which Mrs. Robbie had told.
Some of these invitations had to be declined, and one must know whom it
was safe to offend. Also, there was a long letter from a destitute
widow, and a proposal from a foreign count. Mrs. Robbie's secretary had
a list of many hundreds of these professional beggars and blackmailers.

Conspicuous at the dance was Mrs. Winnie, in a glorious electric-blue
silk gown. And she shook her fan at Montague, exclaiming, "You wretched
man--you promised to come and see me!"

"I've been out of town," Montague protested.

"Well, come to dinner to-morrow night," said Mrs. Winnie. "There'll be
some bridge fiends."

"You forget I haven't learned to play," he objected.

"Well, come anyhow," she replied. "We'll teach you. I'm no player
myself, and my husband will be there, and he's good-natured; and my
brother Dan--he'll have to be whether he likes it or not."

So Montague visited the Snow Palace again, and met Winton Duval, the
banker,--a tall, military-looking man of about fifty, with a big grey
moustache, and bushy eyebrows, and the head of a lion. His was one of
the city's biggest banking-houses, and in alliance with powerful
interests in the Street. At present he was going in for mines in Mexico
and South America, and so he was very seldom at home. He was a man of
most rigid habits--he would come back unexpectedly after a month's
trip, and expect to find everything ready for him, both at home and in
his office, as if he had just stepped round the corner. Montague
observed that he took his menu-card and jotted down his comments upon
each dish, and then sent it down to the chef. Other people's dinners he
very seldom attended, and when his wife gave her entertainments, he
invariably dined at the club.

He pleaded a business engagement for the evening; and as brother Dan
did not appear, Montague did not learn any bridge. The other four
guests settled down to the game, and Montague and Mrs. Winnie sat and
chatted, basking before the fireplace in the great entrance-hall.

"Have you seen Charlie Carter?" was the first question she asked him.

"Not lately," he answered; "I met him at Harvey's."

"I know that," said she. "They tell me he got drunk."

"I'm afraid he did," said Montague.

"Poor boy!" exclaimed Mrs.