Webb that she was a duchess.

"You see that fellow over there!" he exclaimed, suddenly, indicating
with the point of his lead-pencil a young man with a vulgar, vacuous
face and a clumsy assumption of the grand air; "well, he was nobody a
year ago,--a distant connection of the Webbs; but they never recognized
his existence until he came into some money. Then they took him up, and
now he's out of sight. It's too bad you didn't happen to be that kind of
Webb. You look a long sight more of a gentleman than he does."

"Are any of the Webbs here?" asked Andrew, choking with bitterness.

"There's the old girl over there. Regular old ice-chest."

"Is--is--Schuyler Churchill Webb here?"

"He's just come in. He is talking to the duchess--the French one."

Andrew gazed with dull hatred at the plain amiable-looking young man,
whose air of indefinable elegance seemed to reach forth and smite him in
the face. The gulf, which had been a gradually widening rift, seemed
suddenly to yawn.

"Well, I must go," said Chapman. "I have to get my stuff off, you know.
Will see you in the morning."

As he left, Miss Leslie renewed her pleasantries, hoping that Andrew
would ask her to go down and dance. She was terribly afraid of the great
folk, poor little soul, but she felt that this strong self-reliant young
man would protect her. Andrew excused himself in a few moments, however,