He stepped back, nodding here and there to an acquaintance. Finally
catching sight of his sister in the dining room, he joined her, and
stood for a moment gazing at the commonplace comedy of presentations.

Miss Gard yawned. "My dear Marcus, who ever heard of you attending a
tea? Really, I didn't know you knew these people so well."

Gard was glad of this opportunity. His sister had a praiseworthy manner
of distributing his slightest word--of which he not infrequently took
advantage.

"Well, you see, I was indebted to Marteen for a number of kindnesses in
the early days, though we'd rather drifted apart before he died--had
some slight business differences, in fact. But I'd like to do all I can
for his widow and that really sweet child of theirs. I have a small nest
egg in trust for her--some investments I advised Mrs. Marteen to make.
Who is that chap who's so devoted?" he asked suddenly, switching the
subject, as his quick eye noted the change of Dorothy's expression under
the admiring glances of a tall young man of athletic proportions, whose
face seemed strangely familiar.

Miss Gard lorgnetted. "That? Oh, that's only Teddy Mahr, Victor Mahr's
son. He was a famous 'whaleback'--I think that's what they call it--on
the Yale football team. They say that he's the one thing, besides
himself, that the old cormorant really cares about."

Marcus Gard stiffened, and his jaw protruded with a peculiar bunching of
the cheek muscles, characteristic of him in his moments of irritation.
He looked again at Dorothy, absorbed in the conversation of the
"whaleback" from Yale, recognized the visitor at the Denning box, and,