seemed so much more in the key of the world she read about in the Sunday
papers--the dazzling auriferous world of the Van Degens, the Driscolls
and their peers.

She was roused by the sound in the hall of her mother's last words to
Mrs. Heeny. Undine waited till their adieux were over; then, opening her
door, she seized the astonished masseuse and dragged her into the room.
Mrs. Heeny gazed in admiration at the luminous apparition in whose hold
she found herself.

"Mercy, Undine--you do look stunning! Are you trying on your dress for
Mrs. Fairford's?"

"Yes--no--this is only an old thing." The girl's eyes glittered under
their black brows. "Mrs. Heeny, you've got to tell me the truth--ARE
they as swell as you said?"

"Who? The Fairfords and Marvells? If they ain't swell enough for you.
Undine Spragg, you'd better go right over to the court of England!"

Undine straightened herself. "I want the best. Are they as swell as the
Driscolls and Van Degens?"

Mrs. Heeny sounded a scornful laugh. "Look at here, now, you unbelieving
girl! As sure as I'm standing here before you, I've seen Mrs. Harmon B.
Driscoll of Fifth Avenue laying in her pink velvet bed with Honiton lace
sheets on it, and crying her eyes out because she couldn't get asked
to one of Mrs. Paul Marvell's musicals. She'd never 'a dreamt of being
asked to a dinner there! Not all of her money couldn't 'a bought her
that--and she knows it!"