d of those of his set; she and her girl friends were
whispering and jesting about them. Here sat Oliver, smiling and
cynical, toying with Rosalie as a cat might toy with a mouse; and
to-morrow he would be with Betty--and could anyone doubt any longer
whence Betty had derived her attitude towards life? And the habits of
mind that Oliver had taught her as a girl she would not forget as a
wife; he might be anxious to keep her to himself, but there would be
others whose interest was different.

And Montague recalled other things that he had seen or heard in
Society, that he could put his finger upon, as having come out of this
under-world. The more he thought of the explanation, the more it seemed
to explain. This "Society," which had perplexed him--now he could
describe it: its manners and ideals of life were those which he would
have expected to find in the "fast" side of stage life.

It was, of course, the women who made Society, and gave it its tone;
and the women of Society were actresses. They were actresses in their
love of notoriety and display; in their taste in clothes and jewels,
their fondness for cigarettes and champagne. They made up like
actresses; they talked and thought like actresses. The only obvious
difference was that the women of the stage were carefully
selected--were at least up to a certain standard of physical
excellence; whereas the women of Society were not selected at all, and
some were lean, and some were stout, and some were painfully homely.

Montague recalled cases where the two sets had met as at some of the
private entertainments. It was getting to be the fashion to hobnob with
the stage people on such occasions; and he recalled how naturally the
younger people took to this. Only the older women held aloof; looking
down upon the women of the stage from an ineffable height, as belonging
to a lower caste--because they were obliged to work for their livings.
But it seemed to Montague, as he sat and talked with this poor
chorus-girl, who had sold herself for a little pleasure, that it was
easier to pardon her than the woman who had been born to luxury, and
scorned those who produced her wealth.

But most of all, one's sympathies went out to a person who was not to
be met in either of these sets; to the girl who had not sold herself,
but was struggling for a living in the midst of this ravening
corruption. There were thousands of self-respecting women, even on the
stage; Toodles herself had