Fifth Avenue."

The two men spent a morning after their own hearts. They lunched
astonishingly well at Sherry's and drove afterwards in the Central Park.
When they returned to the hotel Sogrange was in excellent spirits.

"I feel, my friend," he announced, "that we are going to have a very
pleasant and, in some respects, a unique week. To meet friends and
acquaintances everywhere, as one must do in every capital in Europe, is,
of course, pleasant, but there is a monotony about it from which one is
glad sometimes to escape. We lunch here and we promenade in the places
frequented by those of a similar station to our own, and behold! we know
no one. We are lookers on. Perhaps, for a long time, it might gall. For
a brief period there is a restfulness about it which pleases me."

"I should have liked," Peter murmured, "an introduction to the lady in
the blue hat."

"You are a gregarious animal," Sogrange declared. "You do not understand
the pleasure of a little comparative isolation with an intellectual
companion such as myself. What the devil is the meaning of this?"

They had reached their sitting-room, and upon a small round table stood
a great collection of cards and notes. Sogrange took them up helplessly,
one after the other, reading the names aloud and letting them fall
through his fingers. Some were known to him, some were not. He began to
open the notes. In effect they were all the same--On what day would the
Marquis de Sogrange and his distinguished friend care to dine, lunch,
yacht, golf, shoot, go to the opera, join a theatre party? Of what clubs
would they care to become members? What kind of hospitality would be
most acceptable?

Sogrange sank into a chair.

"My friend," he exclaimed, "they all have to be answered--that
collection there! The visits have to be returned. It is magnificent,
this hospitality, but what can one do?"

Peter looked at the pile of correspondence upon which Sogrange's inroad,
indeed, seemed to have had but little effect.

"One could engage a secretary, of course," he suggested, doubtfully.
"But the visits! Our week's holiday is gone."

"Not at all," Sogrange replied. "I have an idea."

The telephone bell rang. Peter took up the receiver and listened for a
moment. He turned to Sogrange, still holding it in his hand.

"You will be pleased, also, to hear," he announced, "that there are half
a dozen reporters downstairs waiting to interview us."

Sogrange received the informa