"With counters which you have let the parvenues establish for you. In my
day we tried to keep out of the papers."

"Clever of you," approved the girl. "The more you try to keep out, the
more eager the papers are to print your picture. They're crazy over
exclusiveness," she laughed.

"Speculation, pro and con, as to who is going to marry whom, and who is
about to divorce whom, and whether Miss Welland's engagement to Mr. Eyre
is authentic, 'as announced exclusively in this column'--more
exclusiveness--; or whether--"

"It wasn't Del Eyre that I came out here to marry."

"No?"

"No. It's Carter Holmesley. Of course you know about him."

"By advertisement, also; the society-column kind."

"Really, you know, he couldn't keep out of the papers. He hates it with
all his British soul. But being what he is, a prospective duke, an
international poloist, and all that sort of thing, the reporters
naturally swarm to him. Columns and columns; more pictures than a
popular _danseuse_. And all without his lifting his hand."

"_Une mariage de reclame_," observed Miss Van Arsdale. "Is it that that
constitutes his charm for you?"

Miss Van Arsdale's smile was still instinct with mockery, but there had