the man of the world to a healthy and contemptuous disgust. Surely these
persons had never been there of old; he could not remember one of them.

He looked again, more closely. Was it fancy, or was the gathering itself
aware of the change which had passed over it? As a whole, it was
certainly noisier than of old; the shouting and laughter were incessant.
But within the general uproar certain groups had separated from other
groups, and were talking with a studied quiet. Most of the habitué's
were still there; but they held themselves apart from their neighbors.
Were the old intimacy and solidarity beginning to break up?--and with
them the peculiar charm of these "evenings," a charm which had so far
defied a social boycott that had been active from the first?

He glanced back uncertainly at Lady Kitty, and she looked at him.

"Why are there no ladies?" she said, abruptly.

He collected his thoughts.

"It--it has always been a men's gathering. Perhaps for some men
here--I'm sorry there are such barbarians, Lady Kitty!--that makes the
charm of it. Look at that old fellow there! He is a most famous old
boy. Everybody invites him--but he never stirs out of his den but to
come here. My mother can't get him--though she has tried often."

And he pointed to a dishevelled, gray-haired gentleman, short in
stature, round in figure, something, in short, like an animated egg, who
was addressing a group not far off.

Lady Kitty's face showed a variety of expressions.